A New Kind of Bizarre Insanity
by mio-got-energy
Summary: The story behind a sugar coating. Airika Cobb. Who is she? Dangerous, possible murderer, sister of an extractor, friend of a tattoo artist. That's just the beginning. Add danger, a british accent, an observant point man, and everything is questioned. A/OC
1. Chapter 1

**If you have decided to give this fanfiction a look-see, I take this moment to THANK YOU! I created this OC awhile ago, and I've been very excited to share her with you! This takes place after the Fischer job, and the team has reunited to cause yet more trouble in the world! Yay!**

**Warning: there's swearing in this, not a lot, but I wasn't sure of the rating... So swearing may verge on M, but I wasn't convinced...**

**I don't own Inception, only the OC...**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Personally, Cobb was convinced this job was definitely not worth the effort he was compelled to give it. It should be incredibly simple, they were only really required to go one level down. Cobb sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead as he recalled all the little things that had gone wrong. They weren't even monumental complications, though they seemed to just keep popping up.<p>

First, the mark decides it would be a good time for a vacation, and not to tell anyone where he was going, ultimately demanding week's worth of Arthur's time searching for him.

Then, obviously, the mark's wife had to freak at his sudden absence, creating a rift between the couple. This made it necessary for Eames to recalculate everything that could be used to get an upper hand over the mark in the dream.

Ariadne, busy with college, had gladly made them mazes, though she was nearly incapable of coming to the warehouse because of classes. Therefore, she couldn't brief them on the mazes, leaving them to figure them out individually. Given the complexity of Ariadne's style, this made the task difficult.

Thankfully, they didn't need a sedative, though they couldn't have one anyway, as Yusef's storage had somehow been contaminated, causing him to have to go out, get new materials, and recreate all the sedatives.

Finally, and Cobb was sure that this was the most minor, trivial thing that could possibly cause issues, the people closest to the mark spoke no English. Usually, this wouldn't even be an issue, as collectively, members of his team could contribute Spanish, French, German, Russian, Japanese and Italian, generally thanks to Arthur. No, these people spoke a language that Cobb considered to be sufficiently random, though he recalled Arthur telling him it was one of the more common languages. They spoke Dutch.

Cobb sighed again as he tried not to slump in his chair, which he had been occupying for the past hour and a half, listening to a gathering of the mark's associates speak to each other in mind-numbing Dutch and attempt to come up with an choppy English translation for him. A cellphone buzzing in Cobb's pocket saved him from having a mental breakdown. Holding a finger up to the group of people facing him, and being perfectly certain that they didn't understand hand signals either, Cobb pulled out the device and opened a text from Arthur. He felt the urge to throw the phone at the jumble of Dutch words that greeted him. Underneath, Arthur had instructed him to relay that message and get back to the warehouse. Cobb, not knowing what else to do, copied the words out on a piece of paper and gave it to the group. They all read it and looked at him curiously before turning to each other and relaxing into conversation that didn't seem to concern Cobb at all.

After a moments hesitation, Cobb rose from his seat and left hurriedly, eager to get fresh air. He filled his lungs with it as he hit the sidewalk outside, not caring that it wasn't the cleanest air, just happy he was out of the office building the meeting had taken place in. Upon returning to the warehouse, he found Arthur deliberately and methodically typing away into his computer, and Eames staring off into space. Rolling his eyes, he sat heavily in a chair to announce his presence, as they were both apparently to distracted to notice the door opening. Slowly, both of his team members looked up at him.

"What did you tell them?" Cobb asked Arthur wearily, referring to the message he had sent minutes before. Arthur shrugged noncommittally.

"That their assistance was no longer needed, we had all the information required, and we would contact them if need be," Arthur listed. "It was difficult though. Probably sounded like a third grader,"

"But we don't have all the information required," Cobb murmured, though he wasn't truthfully complaining.

"Never mind that. Cobb, we need an overrider," Arthur stated this with such authority and such certainty, that Eames didn't even scoff. Cobb fought to keep his face impassive, having a sort of staring contest with his point man.

"Why?" he finally asked. Arthur rolled his eyes, in a manner very unlike him.

"Because the mark is a dreamer himself. You already know that. He'll know he's dreaming, probably faster then we can even try to extract anything from him. He'll collapse the dream, or at least refuse to give us anything," Arthur sounded very much like he was explaining this to a grade schooler.

Cobb continued to keep his blank face in place as he responded. "Overriders are hard to come by,"

"Hard to come by? They might not even exist anymore," Eames scoffed.

"They exist," Arthur shot him down instantly. "And I think Cobb knows one," he was scrutinizing Cobb's face, and Cobb was nearly certain Arthur could see straight through his lack of expression. A moment of ringing silence passed.

"I know one," Cobb finally surrendered. He said nothing after that, nor did he move from his seat.

"You apparently have issues with whoever it is, and you need to get over them. We need an overrider, and we don't have a chance at this job if we don't have one," Arthur asserted firmly, finally breaking out of the staring battle to glance at his computer screen again.

"Fine. You should know one thing about her though," Cobb began, without the slightest change in his tone of voice. Arthur's eyes met his again.

"What?" he prodded, remaining unmoved by Cobb's reluctance.

"She's my sister,"

~o~

"Leather is always better, right?" Snow questioned from her position in front of the mirror. In reply, I waved my foot at her, uncrossing it for a moment before putting it back up on the table of shoes by my chair. The salesgirls around the department were looking at me accusingly, but Snow and I had worked our way through the most expensive pairs of shoes in the place, and they didn't dare piss either of us off, in hopes we would buy some.

"Leather boots," I informed her questioning look, gesturing to my shoes. Snow beamed, pivoting to see the sandals she currently wore from the back. "I liked the other ones better," I informed her, tilting my head backwards in the direction of said shoes.

"You always like boots better," Snow rolled her eyes.

"They're more you. Trust me," I persuaded, grinning as she looked wistfully at the shoes I had indicated. "Anyway, those barely count as boots. They don't even reach mid-calf,"

"You getting anything?" Snow asked, ignoring my second comment as she sat in her chair beside mine to pull off the sandals.

"Yea," I uncrossed my legs and sat straight again. I reached down, organizing three boxes. All three contained boots. Two of which went over my knees. Snow nodded approvingly.

"I think I'm getting these too," she seemed to be giving in, still holding onto the sandals.

"If you want them, get them. Then I won't have to go through your separation anxiety attack," I smirked at her scowl, getting to my feet as she organized her own dual boxes. After making the lucky salesgirl who had helped us happy with an over eight hundred dollar sale, Snow and I wandered out of the shoe department.

"Food?" Snow suggested hopefully. I agreed, and we made our way to a coffee shop, where the apparently starving Snow got a large sandwich. I stuck to my trusty slice of banana bread. "You never eat," Snow griped as we sipped our coffee.

"I eat dinner," I corrected, scanning the coffee shop for interesting occupants and coming up empty. Snow made a noise of doubt. "Don't start on my eating habits again, please," I implored, picking at my bread slice.

"Only if you actually _eat_ that. Stop picking," Snow instructed, slapping my hand away from the bread and breaking it into good sized, though able to be eaten easily, chunks. "Now eat those, and don't pick" she gestured at it. I huffed at her, but complied. Snow nodded approvingly, going back to powering through her sandwich.

"Hey, don't you have a four o' clock coming?" I questioned her suddenly, my eyes catching a clock hanging nearby.

"Shit," Snow followed my gaze to the clock, reading that it said three fifty-five.

"You're not going to make it," I informed her helpfully. Snow glared at me before jumping up. I followed her lead, and we raced each other to the car, thankfully parked close by, as it was very awkward to run with coffee shopping bags in hand. We sped off, ready to make an attempt at turning a twenty minute drive to a four minute drive. This plan ultimately failing, we did manage it in ten.

The car screeched to a stop outside the little half underground studio, owned by Snow herself, a sign hanging outside with the words _Design with Rendition_ inscribed in swirling print. Snow was a tattoo artist, and if you knew where her place was, it was _the_ place to go. She was brilliant at her job, nobody left without being beyond a hundred percent satisfied with her art.

"Hi Xander. So sorry," Snow apologized quickly to the man sitting in her waiting room.

"It's fine. Gave me a chance to look through your wide book collection," Xander smirked as he gestured to the basket full of binders, all containing ideas, mostly drawn by Snow. "Hey Airika," Xander greeted me. I gave him a half wave and a smile, continuing to tag along as Snow led him back to her main room. Xander had been coming here religiously for the past months, in the process of getting huge sleeves of tattoos. Though personally disliking the idea, I had to admit, the design Snow had come up with for him was almost elegant, even in its masculinity. The next two hours passed in relative silence. I flipped slowly through magazines, not really taking anything in, just using the excuse of something to do. Once Xander's appointment had finished and he had left, Snow fell back in her chair.

"Want me to finish your feather? I'm in desperate need for a feminine design," she offered, almost in a beseeching tone. One of the perks of being Snow's best friend; I get tattoos for free. I agreed happily, moving over to her table. I pulled off my right boot and rolled up the leg of my jeans, revealing the almost finished feather on the outside of my leg, starting at my ankle and made its way up to around six inches below my knee. After switching out needle and ink, Snow worked carefully on the design, the details on the feather much more precise. A little over an hour passed, full of Snow's griping on Xander's taste in tattoo art, which I couldn't help but laugh at. As seven-thirty rolled around, Snow finished the feather. She sat back, admiring her work.

"You're amazing Snow, really," I praised her, leaning sideways to look at the finished result too.

"Am I?" she asked jokingly, smirking as she pretended to literally bask in her own glory. "Still, my best work will always be your wings. I seriously can't get over how well they turned out," she got up and pushed my shirt up my back, revealing the set of dark, intricate wings that reached from my shoulders to my tailbone. I grinned as I pictured them. They had been my first tattoo. As I had grew up, I had always been against tattoos. Once I met Snow, she had worked and worked for me to let her give me one. Finally, I had challenged her to design me a pair of wings. After many days of collaboration, my design was finally made, and I gave into her pleadings. They, of course, turned out perfectly.

After my mind was open to tattoos, I had been much more open to others, though I always had to be sure of their simple elegance. Besides the wings and the feather, I had a my zodiac sign, with the crab and name, Cancer, on my ankle, the opposite leg that the feather was on. There was also a small dove on my left hipbone. Finally, my most dramatic besides the wings, simple and short branches began on my right thigh, morphing up over my hipbone and eventually turning into easy swirls that ended on my stomach and side, though not coming close to mixing with the wings.

"So. Plan for tonight?" I asked openly as Snow returned to her chair.

"Movie and Thai food?" she suggested, shrugging. With a slight laugh, I agreed.

~o~

_I was dreaming. Why the fuck was I dreaming? I sat at a table, in a boring room with boring colors and boring décor. I continued to sit, waiting for something, anything to happen. Confusion still spun through my head. I never dreamt. Not because I couldn't, but because I refused to allow myself to, using my ability to control it to my full advantage. Therefore, I knew someone was messing with my mind. I drummed my fingers on the table, waiting for whoever it was to make an appearance. Finally, the single door into the room opened. I never would've guessed who stepped out. Dom. My dear brother._

"_Who gave you permission to screw with my head?" I snapped, taking in his somewhat sheepish expression._

"_My team needs an overrider for our current job. You're the only one I know," he proclaimed, moving until he was across the table from me._

"_Your shit is not my problem," I stated, getting up and focusing my mind. The floor started to vibrate slightly._

"_Wait! Stop, Rika, please," Dom pleaded. I sighed once, but halted my progress in making the dream collapse. "You're the best there is Rika. Why don't you come back?" _

"_Because I don't need more shit in my life. Dreaming is a murder, kidnap, torture attempt waiting to happen," I informed him simply, glaring more at the wall over his head._

"_I'm sorry," he unexpectedly burst. I stopped my glaring for a second, actually looking at him. "I know you aren't honestly staying clear of all this because of danger. I'm sorry for what I did and said to you. I want everything to be normal again,"_

"_Was that supposed to convince me? Do you really think anything can ever be back to the way it was between us? After all that? After Jenna?" I challenged monotonously. Dom shrugged. I scoffed._

"_Whatever. As always bro, it's been a pleasure," sarcasm dripped from every letter as I spoke, and this time, he couldn't stop me as I took the dream from his control and it collapsed around us._

~o~

My eyes blinked open slowly, and I lay there quietly, brooding. A glance to my left told me it was a little after three in the morning. I considered calling Snow to tell her what happened, but that would probably just cause her to yell at me for hours. Snow didn't like being woken up. So I just lay there, thinking. At some point, I looked back over at my clock, which had progressed to eight in the morning. Acting mainly on impulse, I jumped out of bed, pulled on worn and ripped jeans, a gray t-shirt, leather jacket, and knee high boots covered in buckles. I blew out of the house, slamming the skull bucket into my head and jumping on my motorcycle before blasting off through the Paris streets. Minutes later, I roared to a halt outside the all to familiar warehouse. As I jumped off the bike, I tore off the helmet and stormed for the door. I flung in open, entering the room probably more like a storm then a person. I spotted my brother almost instantly.

"Asshole," I seethed, storming over to him. Dom looked up, almost in surprise.

"You're overreacting," he nearly put a tune to the words, like he knew I was going to do this.

"You have no right to mess with my dreams," I snarled, ignoring the paper he shoved into my fist.

"Calm down," Dom said, though he sounded bored as he did.

"No!" I screamed, feeling the urge to rip the random paper in my fingers. I did glance at it though, and despite myself, I started giggling. "You're extracting information out of Dalton Frost?" I somehow managed to ask around the giggles that were turning hysteric.

"And?" my brother questioned, almost defensively.

"You have no chance," I laughed, perching myself on his desk to read the text that decorated the sheet.

Dom made a noise of indignation. "It's an easy enough topic," he assured me.

"You have to find out his immediate plans for the most recent addition to his company," I read from the paper.

"He's barely started on it, and he's not even sure he wants to follow through. It should be simple," Dom seemed absolutely certain of his words, almost looking like he was second guessing my involvement. "Except for that he's a dreamer," he added, almost as an afterthought.

I rolled my eyes. "I've always admired your optimism Dom. But you're way over your head. Frost is one of the most experienced dreamers out there, he'll know he's dreaming before you do. Who hired you anyway?"

Dom hesitated, obviously not wanting to tell me. I waited patiently. "Cobal," he finally muttered. "To redeem ourselves from the other job we failed. They didn't give us a choice,"

His words reduced me to further hysterics. "Cobal? Your life is over. Seriously. Never do a redeeming job for Cobal, unless you know _beyond a doubt_, that you're going to be able to deliver. Cobal is one of the most manipulative, word bending companies ever. Though if they owe you, your life is sweet," I grinned, losing myself for a moment in triumphant memories.

"Do they owe you?" Dom asked, plainly curious despite himself.

"Cobal had owed me for the past seven years. I'm living large," I informed him smugly.

"I can tell," he scoffed, picking up my scuffed and slightly dirty helmet.

"It has character!" I snapped, grabbing the helmet from him. For the first time, other presences in the room were alerted to me by laughter coming from my right. I looked over to see a man sitting in a chair, dressed in a mustard yellow shirt and slacks.

"Do tell me this is your darling sister," he spoke, a distinct british accent coloring his words.

"Airika, this is Eames, our forger," Dom spoke. The man beamed at me. "And that's Arthur, our point man," he looked over on my left side. I followed this direction, finding myself looking at a man, wearing a suit that you only really see in display windows. He was the image of perfection, while Eames was the ultimate picture of a lazy type of casual. How bizarre. I guess Dom was somewhere in the middle of this.

"Hello. I hope my dramatic entrance brought your day excitement," I muttered, feeling suddenly awkward for my explosion at my brother.

"It surely did pet, no worries," Eames assured me, still grinning madly. I sighed, glancing back to my brother.

"Look, the only way you can approach a job like this is to open with the fact that you are in a dream. Don't even attempt to work your way around it, you'll fail. And don't threaten him. Make him think you're trying to help him, not Cobal. Now that I think of it, don't mention Cobal at all. Make a new story, like you want to know for your own personal interest or something," I listed this all before hopping off the desk and heading back for the door. "Don't try and involve me again, for your own safety," I shot back over my shoulder, pushing hair out of my face in preparation to put the helmet back on.

"At least help us with one more thing," Dom pleaded suddenly. I paused, waiting with my back to him. Hurriedly, he continued. "We need Dutch translations for his associates,"

I heard myself groan loudly before whirling around. "What do you want to ask them? Give me a list or something," I demanded exasperatedly. Almost instantly, I had a sheet of paper in my hand, passed from one of Arthur's many folders scattered around him. I repressed the urge to laugh at the organization, but plopped down at a spare desk, translating the questions for them before the next five minutes passed. "Have them write the replies, or record them or something, then email them to me. I'll translate them back," I got up, heading for the door again, determined to not be stopped again.

"Frost's new business plan is a casino line," Dom called after me. I slammed the door behind me in response, refusing to let myself be interested in my own weakness. Inexplicable rage burning through me, I slammed the helmet back on my head and roared away from the warehouse, with no intention of seeing it again for a long, long time.

~o~

"That went well," Eames was still chuckling as the door slammed. Cobb however, felt a grin slide onto his face.

"She's interested. She'll be back," he assured the other two.

"She's pissed at you. You can't expect her to actually come back," Arthur shot him down, still looking at the closed warehouse door.

"I know my sister. She's in," Cobb was so sure of his statement, that nothing Arthur nor Eames said could change his mind set. Airika was going to come back to the dream world, and Cobb was determined to keep her there this time.

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><p><strong>Woo! So? Theories so far? On Airika? Or who is this mysterious Jenna? Thoughts? Love it? Hate it (which would sadden me greatly, but I suppose it would be good to know)? <strong>

**Send a review my way with any thoughts you have! Reviews are what I live for, they inspire me to write more and write faster! **

**Until next time...**

**Mio**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ello again loves!**

**Honestly, I hadn't planned on posting this chapter until tomorrow, but I have a doctor's appointment in the morning, and I wouldn't get to post this until after that! So, since I'm feeling compassionate, I shall post this now! So NOT looking forward to the doctor...they're going to tell me I'm fat and then steal my blood for blood tests. I'm not allowed to eat anymore, which sucks, because I've been hungry for hours. Fun stuff, I know. No worries though, thoughts of writing again for you awesome readers will get me through the scarring experience! Anyway...**

**I still lack that little piece of paper that tells me I own Inception. Nope, I own no part of it, I'm just an ****obsessed fan. I own everything that wasn't in Inception though! ALL MINE! (Yea. I'm just a little tired. Blame my need to write this fanfiction)**

**Read on!**

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><p>To much pent up anger flowing through me, I rode to a shooting range, where I all but demolished the prearranged targets set up. Feeling considerably better, I headed to <em>Design with Rendition<em>, where I hoped to find Snow. I wasn't disappointed, discovering her in own personal design room, where she came up with new ideas and templates. Currently, she was working on a dragon. It was quite simple, though gracefully intricate at the same time.

"My life is hell," I grumbled, sitting in a chair across the table from her.

"What happened?" Snow queried, not looking up from her design.

"My brother," I huffed, pulling a sheet of blank paper to me and starting to doodle absently. I felt Snow's surprise as she glanced at me.

"Does he seriously want you to come back? After everything that happened?" she asked.

"Yea. He's got himself a new team and everything," I couldn't help but throw out there.

"What are they like?"

"I don't know, I barely met them. Better then the others, I can tell you that," I said with a half shrug.

"I doubt that's hard to come by," I heard the smirk in Snow's words, and I almost snickered.

"You'd like the forger. He has an accent. And he looks like he doesn't give a damn about following the rules of dreaming," I looked up to gauge her reaction. Snow smirked broadly, shooting me a joking glare.

"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me," she put the old metaphor out there, making me laugh.

"I'm not assuming. I'm presuming," I challenged her.

"No fair, you're a walking thesaurus," she rolled her eyes. "Well, you're a walking everything actually. Translator, dictionary, everything that makes me resent you. Damn your overrider brilliance," she griped.

"You love me," I scoffed. Snow pointedly focused on her design. A grin adorned my face until I looked down at what I had been drawing. The beginnings of a building plan looked back at me. More specifically, a casino labyrinth. Quickly, I crunched the paper in my fingers, refusing to look at the idea that had been simmering in my head for longer then I cared to admit. A small glance up told me that Snow was scrutinizing my movements.

"You're not thinking of going back," she stated, sounding genuinely appalled. "After all the horrible things that happened because of dreaming, you seriously want to?"

"Of course not!" I nearly shouted at her, making Snow flinch slightly away from me. I took a ragged breath, supposedly to calm myself. It didn't work. Instead, I pushed myself to my feet. "Walk," I grumbled as an explanation, leaving the room and storming from the studio. I set off randomly down a street, ready to walk until I felt like stopping. Which I doubted would come any time soon.

~o~

Nearly ready to break something, Cobb rose to his feet, beginning to pace in agitation. His euphoria in interesting Airika in the job had died down in the hours that followed, mostly after he had called it quits for the evening. His mind no longer full of plans, the memories from so many years previous rushed back to him. Cobb knew things had changed, he no longer blamed Airika for what had happened. In fact, all he really wanted was to make it up to her. He had accused her, did his best to bring his own sister crashing down.

The new guilt plagued him, which was why he was currently waiting. Cobb knew he needed to tell someone about his murky past, someone had to know. What better person then someone who already knew more then he had ever considered telling anyone else? The long-awaited knock finally sounded at the door.

"Ari. Thank god," Cobb groaned as he threw the door open. Ariadne, being Ariadne, didn't question at once. Didn't demand to know what was going on. Didn't even say anything. All she did was wrap her arms around him tightly, and Cobb felt himself fill with thankfulness. He hugged her back, relishing in the support she provided. "Come on in," he stepped back after a moment, gesturing inside his house.

"Are you alright?" Ariadne asked, once they were seated in his living room. Her eyes were wide, innocently questioning.

"No," Cobb answered honestly.

"You're guilty about something, I can tell. What? Is it Mal again?" she asked, touching his arm lightly. "I thought you were over that,"

Cobb shook his head. "I am. This is different,"

"Is it about your sister?" Ariadne asked sympathetically. In reply to Cobb's questioning gaze, she grinned. "Eames called me. Reminisced about her yelling at you for at least an hour,"

Feeling a small grin creep onto his face, Cobb nodded. "Yea. Ari, there is so much shit in my past, and you're the only person who knows even a little bit of it. And if you're willing to listen, there's more,"

Ariadne's face was enough for him. It plainly said to tell her anything he wanted. With a sigh, Cobb finally began to tell the story he had buried away for years.

"Before I met you. Before I met Eames or Arthur. Before I even met Mal. It was just me and Airika. We wanted to be the best at dreaming and extraction, she was probably one of the first true overriders, and we were convinced that we would be unbeatable with the right team. We didn't really have the ideal team we wanted, save for one. There was another girl. Jenna. She was Airika's best friend, and my fiancee," Cobb paused here, listening to Ariadne's predicable inhale of shock. He opened his mouth to continue, but choked on the jumble of words that couldn't organize themselves.

"You never mentioned a Jenna. Where is she?" Ariadne tried to help him out with a question.

"Jenna was murdered," Cobb replied bluntly.

"Who killed her?" Ariadne squeaked, sounding frightened of the answer.

"I don't know!" Cobb yelled in frustration, finally breaking out of the grasp of composure he had. "Though at that time, I was convinced it had been Airika. I thought my own sister had killed my fiancee,"

"Why?" Ariadne murmured, actually looking horrified.

"Because Airika, as well as an overrider, is a trained assassin,"

~o~

"The Ethics of Killing," I read aloud. Hours after I had left her studio, Snow finally tracked me down. Neither of us said anything about what had happened before. It was all in the past. Now, we were pursuing a bookstore.

"That's an abortion book," Snow rolled her eyes.

"The irony still stands," I waved the book at her before setting it back down.

"How about The Morality of Happiness?" Snow held up another book. I huffed, unable to come up with a good retort.

"Enough with Oxford. I've lost a few brain cells just reading these titles," I glared at the shelves. Snow giggled, and we moved away, heading deeper into the books. I felt myself zone slightly, barely taking in the section I stood in. Snow had wandered away into the art books, leaving me alone. Eventually, I felt myself stop in front of a set of shelves. Slowly, my focus cleared. I found myself surrounded by architecture books, looking straight at a book of casino designs. Suppressing the urge to scream, I couldn't stop my hand as it pulled the large book off the shelf. As I flipped through it, plans, photographs, drawings, site maps, and designs seemed to jump out at me, specifics being the only things I saw. I realized I was putting everything together, forming the perfect plan in my head. I jerked myself into rationality, slamming the book shut. I tumbled out of the architecture as quickly as possible, determined to act completely normally as I found Snow pouring over art designs.

~o~

Later that night, I couldn't help my unyielding curiosity, logging into one of my numerous email accounts, the one that I was sure could be found most easily if I was electronically searched. I was right, there was a single unread email, from an email address that had today's date as the recipient name. I giggled, new curiosity overtaking me that concerned the point man's thoroughness. After a quick check on the email address, I found that it traced to a hotel in New Zealand, that apparently was quite profitable, though I was quite certain no such hotel existed.

Still smirking, I opened the email, and was greeted to no sort of message, only an audio file attachment. Slipping the huge, noise eliminating headphones that lay next to me over my head, I clicked on the file. Instantly Dutch words exploded into my ears. Taken slightly off guard, I paused and rewound the tape, opening a blank word document. I translated the answers as they were spoken, coming up with a jumble of words after the tape finally finished. I took the time to separate the questions out, fixing slight grammatical errors, just because they annoyed me. I sent the document back to the address, following the lead of not leaving a message along with it. Not that I had anything to say anyway. I had all the intentions of deleting the document, but my own insufferable interest spurred me to actually read the words. Most of it was a whole lot of unusable waste, though one sentence made me pause.

"_Mr. Frost has had constant correspondence with an unknown benefactor, who has taken great interest in the idea of our company expansion,"_

I stared at the sentence for minutes on end. I willed myself to get a grip. I didn't want any part of this. I didn't want to get involved. My sub-conscious whispered to me from the back of my head. _You're already involved. _With a huff of surrender, I dove into cyber-world, searching for this benefactor. When that golden document finally appeared on my screen, I couldn't help but laugh. Dom was in much deeper shit then I gave him credit for. And I doubted that he, or any of his team had any idea.

Now, I was most definitely involved.

~o~

Eight o' clock the following morning, I was standing outside the warehouse. I guess my ban on it didn't last long. I was laden with a backpack and a huge book tucked safely under my arm. The book was the same book on casinos I had been drawn to the day before. I had gone back as soon as the place had opened again, buying it despite my rational mind screaming at me to not. With a deep sigh, I entered the warehouse, finding the trio almost comically in the same positions I had seen them in before. Dom looked at me and grinned triumphantly.

"I'll help you," I mumbled, glancing from my brother to both Arthur and Eames in turn.

"What changed your mind?" Arthur was first to question. My eyes narrowed slightly, and I looked into his face.

"You haven't figured it out yet," I said it mostly to myself, more as a groan. I hated it when my worries came true.

"What?" Dom asked seriously.

"That Cobal is about to stab you guys in the back," I broke the words to them. Ringing silence met these words. "The 'unknown benefactor?' It's Cobal Engineering,"

~o~

"They want us out of the picture. Someone from Cobal is training Frost's sub-conscious to be nothing more then a killing machine. They want Frost to kill us, so they don't have to,"

"But its a dream! We can't _die_ in a dream! We don't even have a sedative, we'll just wake up," Eames cut through Arthur's briefing. It was half an hour after I had gotten to the warehouse. In that short amount of time, both Arthur and I had used our combined cyber skills to unearth everything Cobal was planning. Actually, he did most of the unearthing, while I covered his tracks. I was best at that. It was an efficient set-up.

"Not necessarily," Arthur plowed over these words. "There is a point, in the instant before we wake up, where Frost will have the opportunity to be able to control the dream. If he succeeds, which he will, he can lock us in the dream. Once that stage is reached, we can be killed in the dream and not wake up. If we are dead in the dream for to long, and we don't wake up, that state will eventually cross over into reality. It's a slow process, but it will result in all of us being killed,"

"So we'll disappear. We know whats going on now, and Cobal will already know that we know what they're planning. We can escape, right now," Dom exclaimed.

"But that is the beauty of it," I actually grinned. "Cobal has no idea, I'm certain of it. On their records, Arthur's searching is a routine check by their computer moderator, to make sure no hackers have gotten in. Ironic, right?"

"Okay, you've lost me," Eames sat up from his somewhat slouched position. "Cobal has hired us for a phony job, with the intention of sneakily killing us instead. We just found out about this. Cobal still thinks that we're an innocent 'dream team' trying desperately to clear our names,"

"That's the basic idea, yes," Arthur affirmed.

"So why don't we just, as our darling extractor puts in, disappear? We can get out of this,"

"True. We could. But there's another option," I couldn't contain my grin. It was probably unhealthy how excited I was about this. "We could play innocent. Go into the dream, letting Cobal believe that we fell into their trap, and turn the dream around once we're in there. We don't let Frost get control, we don't get killed. We get Frost to spill everything he has on whoever wants us dead, get out and turn right around to get the upper hand on Cobal. You lose the price on your heads, and Cobal owes you big time for not shouting around about them,"

"So instead, we have to deal with a highly trained sub-conscious army, who are probably chanting about our deaths right now, and stop a skilled dreamer from doing his own little magic thing-a-ma-wiggle so he can kill us?" Eames questioned seriously.

"Yup," I popped the P as I spoke, leaning back in my chair.

"Remind me why we're better off then where we started," Eames wasn't grasping this.

"Because now, we have Airika," Arthur explained. Eames blinked. I rolled my eyes.

"Eames, do you have any idea what an overrider _does_?" I asked simply.

"You could refresh my memory," he muttered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dom deep in thought. He was putting it all together.

"An overrider overrides things," I explained. Eames rolled his eyes.

"Thank you darling, that was so helpful," he drawled.

"I'm not finished. Frost will have once change to take control of the dream. I can do it whenever the hell I please. An overrider can do whatever they want in the dream. Change it, control it, end it, pause it, lock it, anything. If I get control first, Frost can't,"

"Why?" Eames questioned. "Won't the little chance he has still be there while we're waking up?"

"No," I said simply. Eames raised an eyebrow.

"Understand this Eames. She's the best at what she does. If Airika gets control of the dream, it stays that way," my brother muttered simply. I felt myself shrug modestly.

"Okay. So what about the blood thirsty army?" Eames asked again.

"Christ Eames, being negative doesn't suit you," Arthur muttered exasperatedly.

"It's a legitimate question dearest, and I'd like it answered before we enter a suicide mission," Eames said evenly.

"My pinky finger is more dangerous then Frost will ever hope to be. We've got force covered," I said bluntly. Eames and Arthur looked at me curiously. Neither of them knew yet. Dom glanced at me quickly, obviously wondering if I was actually going to tell them. "I've been a specially trained assassin since I was eleven. All the kids my age were hoping for their Harry Potter letters that wouldn't come. In a way, I got mine," I fell silent, feeling the shocked stares bore into me.

"If this is going to work, you can't be the only one with that sort of knowledge and training," Dom unexpectedly said bluntly. I looked up at him as he got to his feet and started pacing.

"You want to be trained as an assassin?" I finally asked.

"And you're going to be the one to do it," he nodded as he looked at me. "You have to help us out here. The three of us, we can't go in there without at least a little knowledge,"

I got to my feet too, shaking my head. "No. Trust me Dom, you don't want to be an assassin! It's hell, your mind will never be the same, I guarantee you that,"

"I'm not asking you," he said bluntly. I blinked. I saw the certainty in his face, I couldn't sway him if I tried. I glanced behind me at Eames and Arthur.

"You're all seriously willing to give up whatever security and sanity you have?" I asked the group.

"Darling, I lost that years ago," Eames grinned for the first time. Arthur only gave me a small nod.

I looked at my brother. "Fine. First, I need stuffs,"

"Stuffs?" Dom smirked, mocking my plural usage.

"Yes, smart ass, _stuffs_," I stuck my tongue out at him.

"And where do you plan to get your _stuffs_? What kind of stuffs are you talking, anyway?" he questioned.

"I have to go see Erastus," I mumbled as a reply, already deep in thought.

"I hate him," Dom muttered, crossing his arms.

"You're mature," I said sarcastically, grinning anyway. "You don't have to come," I assured him easily when he continued to look ruffled.

"That's all the way in Antarctica, someone should go with you,"

"Why? Not for protection, surely," I nearly scoffed, but resisted the urge.

"No. Because if you don't come back, we have a better change of knowing why," Dom said unashamedly. For a moment, anger flared through me as I considered that he would actually believe I would skip out like that. Then I realized what he really meant. Kidnap.

"Alright fine. Who gets to suffer through thirty-six hours of grueling plane travel and layovers just to spend a few hours in a freezing cold blizzard before coming back?" I said this all so cheerily, that Dom just stared at me for a moment. "I'm being blunt," I informed him, finally sitting in my chair again.

"Me," Arthur announced, with an air that seemed determined to state this fact before someone else stated it for him. In reply to my glance, he shrugged. "That's what was going to happen anyway," he said. I nearly smirked.

"Sucks to be you," I couldn't help but sing-song obnoxiously.

"You're going too," Arthur said, almost defensively.

"Sure, but I've done it before,"

"How do you know I haven't?" Arthur challenged.

"If you had, you'd know what you just got yourself into," I resisted the urge to giggle at his expression, instead getting to my feet, beginning to move away from our gathering. "Bring a coat. Or ten,"

* * *

><p><strong>Holy moly. Antarctica trip next! Let me tell you, it's going to be a pretty awesome experience! Only I and my overly helpful friend have read chapter 3, and if I get a review or two, it'll be yours as well! And yes, that was my not so subtle way of begging you for reviews. They are my LIFE. Which is pathetic. But, I'm sure a few of you out there know what I mean!<strong>

**So, maybe send me a letter of love? I scream really loudly when I see the Review Alert email. My house echos...A LOT. I trust your mind to put those two together. Interesting result, no?**

**Adieu, **

**Mio**


	3. Chapter 3

**First off, I want to thank all who reviewed/favorited/alerted to this! It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Here is chapter three, I do hope it was speedy enough for all who like my story!**

**I still lack Inception ownership...anything that wasn't in Inception in still mine. Imagine that!**

* * *

><p>I arrived at the airport two days later with a single bag. The bag was almost an army style or camping duffle mix thing, and it was slung over my shoulder. It contained nothing but clothes, the casino book, and the iPod I was unhealthily addicted to. As I approached Arthur, who was already at the gate, I registered his raised eyebrow in my direction. It took me a second to register that he was taking in the light pants and t-shirt.<p>

"What are you looking at, Mr. Three Piece? It's going to be fucking hot in South America, I don't feel the urge to be baked," I defended myself. Arthur almost smiled. He didn't really, but I saw it. Eventually, our flight was called, and we got onto the plane. I sat in the first class seat, deciding it was a worthy seat to spend the next twelve uncomfortable hours. The first hours of the flight passed in surprisingly comfortable silence, in which I flipped through the book, letting different plans jump out at me.

"The menu for the flight," a woman's voice said pleasantly from over us. I glanced up to see the first class flight attendant standing over us, holding a piece of paper. I took it, just to be polite, but pointedly shoved it in the seat pocket facing me after she moved along. I felt Arthur register this action, but he said nothing. It didn't come up again until the next hour passed, and the same flight attendant came through again, asking for orders.

"Not hungry," I muttered to her, not caring that her eyes narrowed at my apparent attitude. Apparently refusing food was a crime now. Shame.

"Why don't you eat?" Arthur's voice spoke to me this time, minutes after the flight attendant had disappeared off again. I closed the book slowly, looking around at him. "I've never seen you eat anything," Arthur pressed when I didn't reply at once.

"You've known me for three days," I couldn't help but point out. When he continued to just stare at me, I shrugged. "I'm not hungry. Honestly, that's all it is. I drink to much coffee instead," I grinned at my own idiosyncrasy, turning to glance out the window at the ground below, which was finally morphing into water, not land.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"What of I don't want to tell you?"

"Then don't tell me. I'm merely curious," he said indifferently. I actually started to laugh.

"No you're not," I giggled, scrutinizing his face. "You're more then curious, you really want to know," Arthur said nothing, though some emotion crossed his face that I couldn't register. "Today, actually," I gave in and answered his question. "I had one of those gross microwavable noodle bowls at one in the morning,"

"Seriously?" he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yup. It was mildly less gross then usual though, which was good. Maybe because I was to exhausted to care," I mock pondered for a moment before shrugging.

"What, you don't sleep either?" he asked, in what was supposed to be a sort of joking tone, though I heard the legitimate question behind it.

"Not really," I muttered truthfully. He seemed to be at a loss for what to say. I grinned anyway. "The perks of being an assassin and an overrider. My mind won't shut up,"

"Fine. I'll rephrase the question. When was the last time you actually ate a real meal?" he challenged. I had a feeling that in some strange way, he was enjoying this. I considered.

"Four days ago," I finally admitted. "I had Thai food,"

"That's...abnormal," he stated.

"Who said anything about being normal?" I asked simply. This time, the slight excuse for a grin actually flashed across his face.

The plane travel continued uneventfully, and my prediction came true when we landed in Brazil. It was a blistering type of heat. It was so bad, that we scoured the airport until we found the one spot that was air conditioned, and remained there for the length of the three hour layover. The next flight took us to Chile and into a town called Punta Arenas. Once there, we switched airports, finding a small airport on the coast line.

We were put on a small plane, that I was certain was extremely unreliable. It spluttered through the air choppily, leaving me to just wish and hope for a landing that didn't end in flames. I'm happy to say that nothing of the sort happened and we bumped to a stop on the Antarctic ice plains. We found a boat already waiting for us, which we boarded after I dragged the huge sweatshirt out of my bag. It seriously was freezing here. I left Arthur in the back of the boat as the driver briefed me on the time it would take to get to our destination, and all the boring stuff that went with it.

I returned after that brief amount of time to find Arthur exactly where I'd left him, a blank expression hardwired onto his face. The thing that gave him away was his teeth clenched together, and the fact that his face looked a little blue out of cold. I sat next to him, registering the fact that he gave off no heat whatsoever. He didn't look around at me, but sat completely still, as if trying to fight off the cold. After a minute of this, I grabbed his arm.

"Arthur. You have to move, or you won't be able to soon," I insisted as the small boat pushed off shore. When he remained stony, I gestured to the water now making a huge wake behind us, created by the engine. "It's going to get a lot colder soon, we're actually going into the center of the glaciers. Seriously Arthur, you need to move, trust me," I felt the need to shake him, as he really did look like he had been frozen solid.

"No," he muttered, which told me otherwise. I let go of his arm to reach into my coat, pulling out an unmarked bottle.

"Drink," I commanded, giving the bottle to him.

"What is it?" he mumbled, glancing at me with his eyes only.

"You's say no if you knew. Just drink," I made him take the bottle. Slowly, Arthur drank from the bottle.

"That's alcohol," he informed me.

"Good job. Now come on. The alcohol makes you think you're warm, but your core temperature just dropped even more. Which puts you in more danger of hypothermia then you already are. Now you need to move," I pulled him to his feet and dragged him under the tarp thing that was hoisted over the center of the boat. I forced him to keep standing while I switched the deadly alcohol with a thermos. Arthur looked at it apprehensively. "This is tea. Drink it," I shoved it into his hands, watching him closely as he complied. As minutes passed, he got more and more sure of drinking it, as the tea was hot, and legitimately warmed him this time. I sat down on a bench, crossing my arms tightly across my chest and letting my eyes close as the frozen air whipped at my face.

"Is this all there is?" Arthur asked after a moment, referring to the tea. I did nothing except nod. "Then you should have some," he concluded. I shook my head.

"I planned this part of the trip around you being an ice cube. Drink all of that," I waved my hand in his direction for apparent emphasis, still not opening my eyes. I sensed him do nothing, and I peered up at him through my eyelashes. "I went through this the first time I came out here too. I know what I'm doing," I said bluntly. He looked mildly upset, probably because of my sharp attitude, but I did nothing to fix it. I did watch him though, making sure he wasn't to stubborn. Time passed with only the sound of the motor breaking the air, as it was truthfully to cold to talk normally. As I began to start wondering how close we were, the boat suddenly slammed to a stop. I narrowed my eyes. This couldn't be it. The driver of the boat appeared in front of me.

"I'm not going any further," he announced gruffly. "Get out,"

I looked off across the ice we were now wedged at, seeing the cavern in the distance. "It's your job to get us all the way over there," I told him, pointing at it.

"They've tried to get me killed every time I go there, I'm not going again," he said, just as firmly as before.

"They won't actually kill you," I scoffed. The guy glared at me for a moment before actually reaching into his pocket. Arthur and I were both to quick for him, and he ended up being faced with two guns before he could touch his. He actually dared to smile maliciously.

"Kill me then. But good luck maneuvering that ice. You'll be sunk before half an hour passes," he chuckled. I stood there for a moment, thinking about his statement. Arthur glanced at me, obviously wondering if it was true. I finally let out a groan, lowering the gun.

"He's right. Let's go," I grumbled. The guy turned his head slightly, and I took the opportunity to hit him, hard, on the back of the head with my gun. He crumpled, unconscious. "Asshole," I muttered, leaping off the boat onto the ice to join Arthur, who was already there.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked, sounding disapproving.

"You mean I need a better reason besides the fact that he just condemned us to an hour long walk at least?" I threw at him, starting off across the icy plains before he had a chance to reply.

~o~

When we finally reached the mouth of the cavern, even I was cold enough that I could no longer feel my feet, hands, or face. "I. Am. _Never_. Coming. Here. Again," I punctuated, inspecting my frozen hands rather then trying to warm them. Arthur made a noise, mostly out of agreement, though it also sounded like the noise you make when you're trying not to explode with obscene profanities. Suddenly, the whole cavern shook slightly, and an echoing bang reverberated through the ice walls.

"What does that mean?" Arthur asked, looking like he knew it wasn't the right way to phrase the question, though he didn't seem to know the correct words.

"It means we're in the right place," I grinned, even through my frozen mind-set. I started off further into the cavern, but paused, turning back to him. "Don't draw your gun. It'll be an instinct, but just...don't do it. Don't try and hide that you're armed, and let me do the talking, please,"

"Okay?" he replied, making it sound more like a question. I gave him the thumbs up, heading off again. After about fifteen minutes, my instructions were explained as five people suddenly jumped us. Four of them split into pairs, grabbing both of us. I did nothing, and glanced at Arthur, hoping that he would follow my lead. Thankfully, he seemed to get it.

"Who are you?" the fifth guy, apparently being in charge, demanded.

"I'm here to see Erastus Blackwell," I replied, avoiding his question.

"Mr. Blackwell sees nobody," he snarled.

"Are you paid to say that?" I quipped, before I could stop myself. I heard Arthur give a quiet groan at my obnoxiousness, but I ignored him. "He's expecting me," I said after a beat of silence.

"Your word, understandably I hope, isn't enough," he asserted.

"Well, if I'm lying, and I have some trick planned, I doubt I'll get very far before one of your goons here blows my head apart," I said emotionlessly. The guy scrutinized me, but seemed to think I had a point.

"Are you armed?" he finally switched topics.

"Yes," I replied easily.

"Who's he?" the guy seemed to finally have noticed Arthur standing there quietly.

"A friend. He's not part of this, he's just accompanying me," I replied, thinking suddenly about the art of avoiding questions. I should probably practice a bit more. Whatever. The guy continued to look surly, though he made a gesture to the four others. They instantly moved away, disappearing off into the cavern. I'd bet anything they were still watching. The guy beckoned to us next, turning and walking further through the ice.

"Why did he ask if you're armed if he's not going to take your weapon?" Arthur mumbled to me as we followed the guy.

"They believe that if we _are_ going to do something stupid, we should at least have a fair chance before they kill us," I replied simply, actually grinning at their ethics. We had reached the end of the long cavern, and only a door stood there. The guy put his hand on it, and it opened. The first thing that greeted us were ice shards exploding across the room that lay beyond. As they cleared, I looked to the left to see two boys, who looked no older then thirteen, holding a box, aimed at the ceiling. I looked up, seeing huge holes blasted out of the ice there. I fought the urge to laugh, settling for smiling widely at the two boys. They grinned back, almost sheepish in their amusement.

I looked away, taking in the rest of the room. People were scattered throughout, all doing activities having to do with weapons. They ranged from guns and explosions to actual bow and arrows. I couldn't believe that I was actually happy to be back. This place had been what I called home for years, and it was actually comforting to be somewhere familiar. I knew how things worked around here. I knew it forwards, backwards, with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back. It was a good feeling.

I was brought back to our task at hand by the guy leading us finally stopping. We stood in front of a huge elevator, made entirely of glass. "I won't go any farther," the guy said gruffly. I took that to mean that he wasn't allowed, and almost called him out on this fact. I didn't. With a slight nod, I got into the glass box with Arthur following me. The doors slid closed, and the elevator rose with speed that I thought uncommon for elevators. I took a side glance at my companion, registering that he seemed to be having mixed emotions about this whole thing.

"What?" I asked quietly. Arthur looked at me, dark, unreadable emotion clouding his eyes.

"Do they know anything else?" he finally asked. "There were more kids then adults down there,"

"The adults are somewhere else," I muttered. Arthur saw right through my evasion, continuing to stare at me. "Whatever they might know from outside of this will be gone. They're being trained to feel nothing, to just be a machine,"

"Is that what happened to you?" he asked. I shot him a look.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and lay out everything for me right there. "I've known you for three days, and you've either been emotionless and empty, angry, or excited about having a plan. It's like you're doing things robotically, without actually having the incentive to do them without practical or judicious need to. You don't have emotion besides the basic, explainable topics. Like your mind has been wiped of independent reaction. You show the emotion that seems to correspond best to the topic, not the other way around,"

I felt like my whole identity had been ripped from my chest and thrown into the glare of reality. I forgot to breathe for a second. I had never had anyone actually scrutinize my nature as he had, I had never had my own personality thrown in my face. I choked, unable to say anything. Arthur looked at me, stony, and yet searching, like he wanted his words to cause me to have some sort of reaction that would prove him wrong. He got nothing besides my probably shocked expression for about 45 seconds before I finally cleared it from my face. As if the whole thing was timed, the elevator stopped moving and the doors opened. I shook my head, trying to clear it, before stepping out.

"Rika," a deep male voice sounded from down the hall. I looked up, seeing a man walking towards me. He was exactly how I remembered him. Tall, wearing dark colors, dark hair, short on his head, growing into a beard that nearly verged on bushy. He was built large, always reminding me of a bear. I felt myself grin at the sight of him and his familiarity. Once he got close enough, I threw myself into his arms, an action that he chuckled at.

"_How are you?" _he grasped my arms lightly as he asked, though he switched languages, now speaking in Bus, the original language of Antarctica.

"_Alright, I suppose. I'm sure you found out everything that's been happening," _I replied, copying his language switch.

"_I have. You always did have a knack for attracting trouble,"_ he smiled at me. _"Dom apparently decided to skip out on seeing me,"_

"_I'm sure you don't mind,"_ I rolled my eyes, which only made Erastus grin wider. _"I need you help,"_

"_So I hear. May we continue talking in my office?"_ he suggested. _"And your friend here seems a little lost. I'll talk in English, shall I?"_ he mused thoughtfully, looking over my shoulder at Arthur.

"How considerate of you," I changed back into English, every letter dripping of sarcasm. Erastus shot me an exaggerated wink, turning and walking off with a slight beckon. Arthur and I followed him, and a quick glance at my companion told me that Erastus was right. He looked very lost.

"So, what can I help you with?" Erastus asked, once we were settled in his spacious and modernly decorated office.

"What do you have in the way of firearms?" I asked openly.

"Rika. This is me you're talking about. Be a tad more specific," he scoffed.

"Uh-" I broke off, thinking of how to explain this to him. "I kind of need everything, but I only need one of each," I finally blurted. Erastus looked sufficiently confused. "Like everything from hand guns to things that could blow up cities. Don't say you don't have anything that powerful, I know you do. But I only need one or two of each type,"

"You always had strange requests sunshine, I don't know why I'm surprised," Erastus pondered. "Give me a second, alright?" he got up, disappearing through another door that lined his office. I leaned back in the chair, convinced he would have something for me.

"Isn't Bus a language for people with a more intimate relationship?" Arthur asked suddenly from next to me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Before I answer that, why do you care?" I asked curiously.

"No reason," he muttered.

"I bet you can come up with a better answer then that," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"I just can't see it," he admitted, gesturing from me to the door. "That relationship,"

"Neither can I," I agreed, feeling myself make a face. "You're right, but intimate doesn't always mean sexual. Erastus has been the closest thing I have to a father since I was eleven. He trained me personally, out of all the other kids who were my age. He's the first person I would go if anything went wrong, or if I needed anything," I fell back into silence, hugging my arms around my chest, though I was no longer cold. Erastus came back into the room, and I turned to see him carrying a huge stainless steel box and another long black box. He set both in front of me, a small grin on his face.

"I hope this will suffice," he gestured to the two boxes.

"I feel like it's Christmas," I muttered, popping the latches off the silver box. The side fell down, and automatically six different slots slid out towards me. The bottom one was about five inches tall, while the shortest one carried a simple hand gun. I pushed each box back in place, taking in the size growth of the pairs of guns as I went down. The last slot had a pair of guns that I couldn't help but pick up. It was huge, and felt like it was able to take out whole buildings.

"Built for efficiency," Erastus smiled affectionately at my glee of holding the weapon.

"I can see that," I mumbled, almost pouting as Arthur took it from me. He looked it over, watched by both me and Erastus. "You have no idea what you're looking for, do you?" I called him out, taking the gun away and rolling my eyes. Arthur looked kind of pissed, but he seemed to let my comment go. "You will, soon enough," I assured him, almost laughing.

"I thought of you," Erastus changed the subject, saying the words as he handed me the long black box. "Sorry there's only one I can give you," he apologized.

"There's only one in here?" I asked. The box was almost as tall as I was.

"It doesn't fit in there, actually," Erastus smirked. I let out a breath, and opened the lid. Two pieces of a gun lay in front of me. I was prepared to drop the term 'gun' after one look at it. Destructor. Annihilator. Adjectives such as those came to mind. I picked up both pieces, easily attaching them together with a satisfying sound. Now the thing was taller then I was.

"Holy shit," I muttered, having the need to stand up next to it.

"Shorty," Erastus joked. I swung the gun over the back of my shoulder easily, pointing it at him.

"I've got the kick-ass weapon here, I wouldn't mess with me," I beamed as I said it, taking the gun apart again and setting it back in the case. "How much if it can I have?" I dared to question. Erastus shrugged.

"I trust you. Take it all," he said easily. I lost my breath for a moment before I hugged him tightly again.

"Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much," I exclaimed.

"You'll need this. I know you told me to get rid of it, and that you never wanted to see it again, but it's still yours," Erastus handed me a black case thing, about the size of a passport. I flipped it open, seeing my own picture on the card that lay inside.

"I'm glad you didn't get rid of it," I admitted, shoving it in my back pocket.

"Just, don't do anything to drastic with your new toys, okay?" Erastus pretended to look worried.

"Don't worry, I decided against the world domination plan. I'll start smaller," I joked. Erastus hugged me once more.

"_Try not to take so long before talking to me again,"_ he requested, taking the opportunity to switch languages again.

"_If I don't freeze to death first, I'll do my best,"_ I replied, watching him shrug at the reference to the frozen tundra he called home. Arthur and I left soon afterward, actually having a boat driver with a shred of courage this time take us the whole route. Many frozen hours later, we were finally back in a legitimate and bustling airport in Santiago, Chile. Our two mysterious boxes were attracting many glances, but none of them mattered. Until we got to airport security.

"I hope you have a plan of some kind," Arthur muttered.

"You mean you don't?" I asked, in mock horror. For a second he looked like he thought I was serious. I rolled my eyes. "But the damn boxes in the scanner," I told him. "This is my favorite part," I walked through the metal detector after I spoke, waiting patiently and cooly on the other side. I watched, waiting for the panic moment as Arthur followed me. I watched as the eyes of the security guy watching the screen grew wide, and he gaped for a second before dragging another guy over to look at it too.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm, we have a situation of multiple and highly dangerous firearms," a booming speaker suddenly came on throughout the whole airport. Comically, the whole line dropped to the ground, leaving Arthur and I standing there. I winced as Arthur kicked me.

"Calm down," I snapped. He glared. Ignoring him, I turned back to the security guys, all looking at us cautiously. "They're mine," I confessed, stepping forward.

"Firearms are not allowed on the plane," the security guy muttered, looking absolutely petrified of me. Sure, these security guys are supposed to be trained to be fearless and take trouble makers like me down, but when it really matters, they apparently fail.

"Make an exception," I demanded, throwing the passport like book Erastus had retuned to me at him. He caught it gingerly, like I'd thrown a bomb. He scrutinized the contents before glancing at my face and handing the booklet to the other guy standing next to him.

"You're Airika Cobb?" he asked slowly.

"The one and only. It's the real deal," I affirmed, gesturing to the black holder. When they continued to stare, I sighed. "You're prepared for this situation you know. If you take a little look see under your little desk there," I pointed underneath the scanner, around the spot where the x-ray screen was. "You'll find a few excellent, heavy-duty locks. You'll also find the key that opens those locks. You put the locks on these cases, so we don't try and pull a terrorist move on you. Then you give the one key to the flight attendant in charge on our flight. She holds onto it, and if we're switching flights, which we are, she hands the key off to the next flight attendant in charge. Once we reach our final destination, we get escorted out of the airport, they unlock the locks, and send us on our way. It's actually quite simple,"

"Yes ma'am," the first guy muttered after a minute, looking numb at my monologue. As there was a fumble for the locks, I rolled my eyes, turning back to Arthur.

"They're not very smart, are they?" I asked in an undertone. Arthur looked somewhat amused. "What?" I wondered, almost defensively.

"That's actually really well thought out," he approved, watching the locks get attached to the cases.

"I'm glad we can count on your endorsement," I smirked. As the locks were finally organized, I turned to the rest of the people standing around us, still somewhat crouched on the ground. "We apologize for the inconvenience this undoubtably caused you all. I sincerely hope that this adventure hasn't scarred you for life, and please, have a pleasant day and enjoy your travels, wherever they may take you,"

"You could be a flight attendant," Arthur informed me, once we collected the cases again and set off.

"Definitely. Time for a career change!" I agreed wholeheartedly. He started to laugh, which took me completely by surprise. I hadn't heard him genuinely laugh before. The sound brought a grin to my face, for reasons still unknown.

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><p><strong>So, I have a pretty awesome tale for you guys. The other day, my dad and I went to the dump. As we were driving, a truck passed with the company name Fischer Restoration displayed on the side. I figured it was what happened to Fischer after Inception. I was literally cracking up, and I couldn't tell my dad why because he hates Inception. Which is just plain madness.<strong>

**Anyway, there's my funny tale of the evening/early, early morning. Whichever way you want to look at it. I watched The Shining earlier, so I don't feel like sleeping quite yet. So here I am, writing FanFiction. That is the extent of my life. Anyone out there with awesome, common occurrence Inception references? Some of you have to be obsessed nerds like me.**

**Anyway, review? I won't beg this time, but I might as well ask for them...**

**Thanks to all who read, it means the world to me. Really.**

**Until chapter 4!**

**Mio**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey all!**

**Sorry for the delay, I've been traveling back to where I go to school. It's been a little stressful, so I've been lacking inspiration. But no worries, I'm trying my best, and here's chapter 4 (finally)! **

**Don't forget to send a review or so, and tell me what you think! A million thank you's to all who reviewed in the past!**

**I still don't own Inception...**

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><p>The plane travel was actually the best I'd experienced in awhile, completely because of the petrified looks flight attendants gave us. My attitude continued to amuse Arthur, which didn't cease to confuse me. His random light-heartedness was sufficiently bizarre and unexpected, though I had no admit, not unwelcome. I liked it, it was like I was watching him transform into another Arthur, who he seemed to want to bury away. It apparently didn't always work.<p>

"Why doesn't your brother like Erastus?" Arthur questioned at one point.

"Why? Did you?" I smirked.

"I don't know. Dom just seems to have a genuine hatred for him. I don't see why," he gave a half shrug as he said it.

"Honestly, its because Erastus has no tact. He honestly doesn't give a damn about anything that happens around him. If you spent more then a few hours with him, you'd see why. He also isn't very subtle, which you saw. He barely acknowledged you were there, not because of a specific reason, only because he felt no desire or need to act friendly,"

"That's not exactly hate triggering," Arthur insisted.

"He's also extremely paranoid. He may have seemed to not notice you, but by now, he's done his best to figure out everything about you. Actually, I forgot to warn you, sorry, don't be surprised if your house has been searched,"

"_What?_" Arthur's face contorted as he shouted, causing several people to look around in alarm.

"Ah. That's why I had decided not to tell you. Right," I nodded as I made the out loud mental note, looking out the plane window to hide my smirk.

"Searched my house...what in the _hell _would trigger him to do that?" Arthur seethed, obviously trying to talk quieter, but ultimately failing as the rich snobs that sat in first class with us frowned at his language.

"Calm down," I hissed, trying not to laugh. Truthfully, I wanted to see what would happen if he kept swearing, but decided against triggering him to do so. He looked at me expectantly. "Are you calm?" I asked evenly. His eyes narrowed into a glare. "You're not calm. Okay," I shrugged, rolling away from him in the large seat. Silence fell, and I did nothing except listen to his breathing, which sounded stressed.

"Rika," he finally prompted me, but he spoke quietly and finally sounded like he had a shred of tranquility. I was going to turn back to him, but the nickname caught me off guard. Nobody called me Rika, except for the people who were closest to me, and knew me well enough to feel comfortable using it. Those people consisted of Dom and Erastus. Snow was surprisingly still getting to that point. Though at that moment, hearing Arthur use the nickname, I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. It sounded right.

Which was seriously screwed up.

Damn it all.

After about three seconds, the time it took to recompose my face, I rolled back over to look up at him. "Artie," I countered, just to be obnoxious. He grimaced.

"Eames calls me that because he knows I hate it," he muttered. He wasn't accusing. It was just a statement.

"I know. Are you calm?" I questioned again, not that I needed to. He didn't reply. "Okay. Well, there's probably a lot of reasons Erastus searched your house. First, try not and take it personally. It's just the way he does things. Second, and I'm assuming here, your identity is probably pretty well guarded electronically, so he wouldn't have found much in that search. Which would make him more suspicious. Third, he probably thought you were sketchy anyway. Erastus thinks people who own expensive suits mean trouble, and he's nearly always right. Finally," I hesitated for a brief moment, this reason was just a little to paranoid my own point of view. "I'm probably a huge part of the reason. You're with me, and Erastus is painfully aware of how many people honestly want me dead. So, he is compelled to make sure you're not one of them. Erastus is kind of protective," I trailed off as I spoke, my final words coming out as a sort of mumble.

"No shit," Arthur agreed. The eye of elderly guy sitting in the seat in front of him peered at us through the crack between the seats, staring at us with a glare. Swearing apparently means you're dammed.

Don't you hate it when you realize that to late? I know I do.

I waved cheerily at the eye. The man that it belonged to grunted and turned back around. I started to laugh, stifling the sound with my fist. Arthur watched me, a strange expression on his face.

"What?" I asked, still smirking.

"Something changed. You're getting emotion back," he stated. I blinked at him before shaking my head.

"It's probably because of Antarctica. It's the closest thing I have to home. No worries, you'll get the pissed off me back soon," I assured him quietly.

"I don't want the pissed off you back," he said unashamedly, which I found to be a strange burst of honesty, though I gave a small grin anyway.

"I'm sleepy," I said after a moment of having no idea what to say. "You do know, that if you add up all the time change and flight time and stuff, the day lasted for about 38 hours?" I had no idea if this statement was true or not, and my tone said as such quite plainly. Arthur knew it too, and he rolled his eyes.

"You don't sleep anyway," he reminded me. I gave him a thumbs up before rolling back over away from him, covering myself with the huge sweatshirt I had taken off once we had gotten back to Brazil. I really did hate sleeping on planes, but somehow, I managed, falling into a self-generated dreamless sleep.

~o~

I wasn't sure what triggered me to wake up, but I did so with a violent jerk, sitting blot upright in the seat that I had slumped down in. I realized how sleep mussed my hair was, as it plopped itself over my eyes. I pushed it away, probably making it even worse.

"Morning," Arthur greeted from next to me. I looked over, which only resulted in my hair falling forward again. I didn't bother to try controlling it. I found him still sitting there, and he was currently inspecting a cup of coffee, rather then drinking it. "Sleep well?"

"No," I grunted truthfully, falling back into the seat. My eyes burned and felt heavy, and my perception of my surroundings was way off. I was completely disoriented, which seemed to always happen when I slept on planes. "Oh hell," I grumbled as the disorientation sunk in further, bringing a headache with it. I shut my eyes, attempting to stop my surroundings from spinning. "If you're looking for poison, I doubt there is any," I informed him after a moment, referring to the coffee he continued to watch.

"Is that your way of telling me you want it?" he asked. I shut my eyes even tighter.

"That statement was way to complicated for my brain to comprehend," I moaned. He answered by taking my hand and putting the cup into it.

"Drink. You'll feel better. And take this," he gave me another cylinder shaped object. I opened my eyes to find myself holding a bottle of Advil.

"Lifesaver," I praised, cracking the bottle open and taking three.

"Me or the Advil?" Arthur chuckled.

"I have to pick one?" I wondered, taking all three at once and sipping at the coffee gratefully. The headache subsided after a few more minutes, though I was still somewhat loopy. And the coffee refused to give me a sufficient blast of caffeine. "How much longer? Where are we? What time is is?" I asked, unable to pick a question that made the most sense.

"We're closer to Guinea or Mali then anything. Near the coast of Africa. We've got around nine hours left," he relayed.

"That was oddly specific," I stated, rubbing my hands over my face after setting the coffee back on the little table.

"This thing says so," he said, tapping the screen that was on the back of every seat. His was currently set to scroll through maps of the flight. I mumbled without meaning in reply, letting my head fall back on the seat.

"That's boring. You do know you can watch movies on that and stuff, and you pick the maps," I ridiculed him after a minute, the thought occurring to me suddenly. He didn't say anything to that, only giving me a small shrug.

"Forgive me for stating the obvious, but you look like hell," Arthur smirked at me as he said it.

"Thanks. I feel like hell," I grumbled, refusing to try and relax into the seat, mostly because I wouldn't be able to, but I'd fall asleep anyway, which would be a horrid kind of uncomfortable. I leaned as far forward as I could instead, my forehead touching my legs at some point.

"Go back to sleep. You'll feel better,"

"Yea, _while_ I'm asleep. Then I'll wake up and everything will be worse," I claimed, slightly muffled from my curled pose.

"Sleep until we get there. Getting off the plane will help," Arthur persisted.

"I won't stay asleep," I said glumly. I knew he was right, it would help. But never had there been a time that I had managed to sleep until landing.

"Trust me," Arthur insisted, lightly taking my shoulders and pulling me back in the seat.

"Fine. But if I get worse because I followed your instructions, I'm blaming you forever," I threatened half-heartedly.

"I'll remember that," he agreed. "Just sleep,"

I sighed in surrender, almost thankful that I was going to follow his dictation, and also thinking that it was a very bad idea. I pulled my legs up onto the seat, not fully turning away from him this time, just curling up into the seat as best I could. Minutes later, the blank dreamscape returned.

~o~

Arthur couldn't help but give a slight smile as Airika's face relaxed again, though there was still a restless look to her. He reached forward, lightly brushing the hair that was the brown color of powdered cocoa out of her face. It almost had the texture of that cocoa powder too, weightless and a slippery kind of smooth as it fell through his fingers.

Confusion poked at Arthur as he watched Airika. Confusion at what he was feeling. She was a mystery to him, and he lived for solving mysteries. It was his job. And yet, he also knew that he couldn't let himself get past a professional viewpoint of things. Most importantly, it was dangerous, for Airika, for the team, for the job, for his own grasp of reality. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the fine line already. The fine life between professional and...something else. He had no idea what, mostly from lack of anything else to compare it to. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that moment, and in this moment, he convinced himself that the best thing to do was move the arm rest between himself and Airika, a point of reason that he acted on.

Airika readjusted in her sleep as he shoved the armrest away, and without the minimal support it had provided, she ended up falling against his shoulder instead. Arthur realized with a slight jolt that he didn't mind in the slightest. Instead, he touched her hair once, pulling the heavy sweatshirt over her more securely. He left her alone then, not wanting to accidentally wake her up. He resorted to watching the maps scroll through, over and over, not really taking in what they were saying. All he managed to think about was Airika, which perturbed him, but also refused to let the small smile fall from his face.

~o~

I managed to wake up on the hour without fail after I fell asleep again. I would only stay awake for a minute or so, but it was still maddening to have to wake up. The first time, I found myself lying on Arthur's shoulder. When I questioned him about it, he assured me that he didn't mind, and that I had apparently seemed more comfortable that way. I fell asleep again. Three hours later, he actually forced me to do something when I woke.

"You need to eat," he stated firmly. "You've barely eaten this whole trip,"

"Not hungry," I mumbled, turning my face to hide it in his shoulder instead. I was to disoriented to realize how awkward this would make me feel normally.

"I don't care," he insisted. "You need to eat. I got the most basic thing I could think of," he added, his voice almost taking on a anxious tone. He forced a plain bagel into my hand. I looked over at it for a minute or two before sitting up.

"Fine," I grumbled, tearing the bagel in half and beginning to nibble on the smaller half. I knew he was rolling his eyes, but I didn't care. I ate the bagel without much thought, chewing robotically. The food ultimately made me feel ill, which I had the urge to voice to Arthur. I didn't though, mostly because it had occurred to him to think of and try to do something about my eating habits. I mentally gave him an A for effort. After managing to choke down three quarters of the bagel, I set the last bit down disgustedly. "Satisfied?" I asked, looking at him with a slightly pouting expression that I didn't mean to give him, but ended up doing so anyway.

"No," Arthur gave me the smallest of smiles. "I guess that's the best I'm going to get though,"

"Yup. Deal with it," I replied, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

"Go back to sleep," he dismissed, pointedly looking away from me. It was a action that I knew he only did to hide the mirth in his eyes.

"You wound me Arthur. You really do," I dramatized.

"I know," he shrugged my statement off. I gave a single laugh before leaning on his shoulder again. I did so mostly for the pesky and obnoxious factor it provided, but also because it was much more comfortable then trying to get a better position in my seat. Not that I would voice that to him. I slept again at some point, and continued to wake up five more times as the hours passed. The last time I woke up, Arthur informed me smugly that there was fifteen minutes left in the flight. I had replied by throwing the sweatshirt at him.

~o~

"What do you dream about?" Arthur asked after we had gotten the locks taken off the cases and had been escorted from the airport and sent off in a cab. We had made the smart choice not to tell the cabbie what was in our large cases.

"What do you mean?" I looked at him with genuine curiosity.

"I take it you've seen a lot of horrifying occurrences," he began. I nodded once. "So how do you keep from dreaming about them?"

"How do you know I don't dream about them?" I asked quietly, looking at my lap.

"You're to peaceful when you're asleep to be reliving a nightmare," he stated adamantly. I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged.

"I'm an overrider. I can control my dreams," I said, though I was pretty sure he was already aware of that.

"So what do you dream about? Do you dream at all?" he repeated.

"I dream in lights. It's the most peaceful thing I could come up with without the chance of something changing into a nightmare. It's like a black background, and colored lights come in and out. I guess the color changes depending on what I feel, but that's the only variation. They're relaxing," I trailed off, realizing that I had never told anyone that. Maybe it was because nobody ever thought to ask. Arthur was smiling slightly, and he nodded in assimilation. As we fell silent again, the cabbie succeeded in getting our attention.

"Where are you guys going again?" he asked in a gravelly voice, suited to a cab driver. Arthur nudged me pointedly, which I took as a prompt to tell the guy where I was going. I did.

"Tell me how much of a disaster your house is tomorrow," I requested of Arthur once the cabbie was re-informed of my destination. Arthur grimaced, which only made me smirk.

"Okay," he agreed grudgingly. The cab pulled to a stop under a lit streetlamp, and we were surrounded by abandoned buildings and darkness, nothing else providing light besides the flickering luminosity above us. "I had no idea what I was expecting, but this wasn't it," Arthur said with a raised eyebrow. I snorted.

"Don't worry, I don't live anywhere near here. I've just learned never to go straight home," I pointed around him to an empty parking lot, where a lone motorcycle sat.

"Fair enough," Arthur smirked. "See you tomorrow,"

"Don't lose those, for the sake of my sanity," I pleaded, tapping the separator between the backseat and the trunk, referring to the cases of guns.

"Don't lose sleep over it," Arthur assured me, knowing better then to joke about it. I nodded, and slid out of the cab, dragging my duffle after me. I stood under the streetlamp until the cab was out of sight before moving to the motorcycle. First, I passed the bike, moving to a crumbling wall. Pushing aside debris, I retrieved the connector that actually made the bike run, securing it to the engine.

I was all ready to get on the bike and get out of this slightly creepy parking lot, but something made me stop. I stood almost completely still, laying my bag slowly over the seat of the bike so I could let go of it. Scanning my surroundings, I searched for anything that would make me stop. I saw nothing, but heard quiet movement. I waited it out, knowing better then to yell like an idiot about knowing someone was there. People who did that in moves nearly always died.

Finally, I saw the shape that had originally made me stop. It was a shadow, not taking a completely recognizable form, though I assumed it was a person. Following the shadow, I finally discerned the silhouette of a man. I saw none of his facial features, it was only the way he stood and the shape of his body that told me the gender. He stood there, not moving, and I knew he was watching me. Slowly, I moved to grasp the Beretta 93R that I had on me. The gun had been a present from Erastus. Sure, they're not made anymore, but they still exist. I pulled it out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Faced with the dilemma of the noise the safety lock would make, I didn't even get the chance to ponder it before a shot rang through the air, coming from a gun that wasn't mine. For that split second, I looked up at the silhouette, seeing that it had moved, and was now holding the gun that he had just fired.

At me.

~o~

Not knowing exactly what made him do it, Arthur instructed the cabbie to pull out of sight of the parking lot, though still close enough to see. The cabbie obeyed, probably only because he was getting paid for this. Arthur was more then aware of how much the cabbie was convinced Arthur was one of the mentally insane.

Arthur, refusing to care, watched Airika as she fished for something in the side of a building. As he realized that she had hid a piece of her motorcycle, he had to smirk. He relaxed slightly as she secured her duffle over her shoulder and nearly got on the bike. But she stopped at the last minute. Slowly, her bag dropped next to her, and she moved to get the gun he knew she was hiding. Arthur saw her pull the gun out and just hold onto it.

Arthur found himself holding his breath, and his mind raced at what to do. Before he got the chance to act on one of his many ideas, a deafening shot was heard through the air, coming from a figure he couldn't see. At the same moment, the driver door of the cab was yanked open and another shot was fired. Arthur felt the blood of the cabbie hit his face and watched it splatter against the opposite window. Not even a second passed before Arthur himself was looking down the barrel of a gun. The man who held it was mostly hidden in shadow, but he had a wicked grin on his face.

Reaching quickly for his own Glock, Arthur got the gun pressed into his forehead, leaving the intention clear. The unrecognizable man now crouched over the dead cabbie shook his head, making the universal gesture for Arthur to be quiet and still. Arthur didn't dare move, though his mind was about sixty yards from the gun pressed to his head. Only sixty short yards, where Airika had just been shot.

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><p><strong>Oh how I love cliffhangers...<strong>

**Until next time!**

**Mio**


	5. Chapter 5

**Back again!**

**Just to let you spectacular readers know, school starts tomorrow for yours truly, so the time I'll get to write is quite limited and unknown. But please, if you're still reading my story, stick with me! I will update WHENEVER I can! That's a promise!**

**I still don't own Inception, only my original characters...**

**Anyway, no more cliffhanger! Read on!**

* * *

><p>I tensed, expecting to feel the ripping pain of a bullet find its way into my body. The moment seemed to last way to long, though I could do nothing to save myself. Vaguely, I heard a second shot soon after the first one, though I had no idea what that meant. A searing pain finally found the side of my right arm. Surprised at the lack of horrible, killing kind of pain, I looked down at my arm. The bullet had only hit me slightly, taking a long gash out of my arm. Blood flowed out of it freely, though it was far from life threatening.<p>

"It's about time you showed up," a voice growled. I looked up, registering the lack of silhouette and the presence of a large figure next to me. It was the same guy.

"Where've I been?" I asked stupidly, a little to confused to say something intelligent.

"Don't be a smart ass Cobb," he barked. I felt his hand fasten securely around my neck, and he had slammed me into a building. I felt little pieces of the wall crumble at the disturbance, and I felt them hit my head lightly and make soft clicking noises as the hit the ground. "I lost my chance to take you down years ago. You showing up back here, tells me you're up to no good again,"

"Me? Nah. Taking a trip down memory lane," I choked through my limited airway. His hand tightened even more, and I let out an involuntary gasp, praying for more air. I tried to breathe through my nose, but it was hard with the force he was applying on my neck.

"Like hell you are. Mark my words, I won't let you slither your way out again. I should've put you away for _life_. You won't escape me again. If you fucking _blow your nose_ in public, I can get a warrant for your arrest. Don't even think about crossing me," he hissed menacingly.

"You just shot me without probable cause," I pointed out weakly, as I was short on breath to speak with.

"You're holding a gun. That's probable enough for me," the growl was triumphant.

"Fuck off Smaltin, I'm not doing anything illegal," I barked at him, attempting to throw him off me. Smaltin only cackled sadistically.

"You weigh nothing Cobb, you can't overpower me," he said smugly. I knew he was right. "Think of this meeting as a little warning. I'll leave you be this time, but just know one thing," he dropped his hand, leaving me to slide down the wall, gasping the air into my lungs desperately. "I'm watching you. Do one thing out of line, and I will bring you _crashing down_," he enunciated. "And don't let your friend in the cab get to involved. We don't need anyone else messing with our business," he stepped back, and in the next instant, had disappeared off into the pressing darkness.

I remained sitting on the ground next to the building, only then beginning to feel the throb of my heavily bleeding shoulder. Then his last words registered. _Friend in the cab._ Arthur was still here. I pushed myself up, sprinting for what I knew to be the best hidden viewpoint of the parking lot. I flew around a corner, just in time to see a slightly slimmer figure then Smaltin racing away through the darkness, away from the cab. Ignoring that, I nearly flew to the cab.

"You're an idiot," I spat at Arthur, who was still there, looking slightly dazed. The cabbie was beyond dead, half of his head now sliding sickeningly down the opposite window.

"I didn't expect an attack!" he defended himself at once.

"You should've left!"

"It's a dark and obviously dangerous parking lot! Sorry for not just leaving you!" he shouted back, wiping the cabbie's blood from his face.

"At least I got ahold of my gun," I threw at him, knowing a second to late that the words were a little to harsh. "Help me," I demanded instantly to cover the blunder, starting on pushing the limp body out of the drivers seat across to the passengers side.

"What? Don't do that!" he exploded.

"I've done worse then this," I was getting fed up with him. We needed to move faster.

"The police would be a better place to start," he informed me. I screamed in frustration, moving away from the drivers seat to pull open his door. I leaned inside so I was right in his face.

"Those _were_ the police. And now, we've been set up. Legitimate looking police are going to show up any minute. Now, think of our situation. It's our word against _at least_ two policemen, we're both covered in blood, we're both armed, there's a cabbie with his head blown off, and there are two huge cases of firearms in the trunk. _Do the math_,"

"Oh," he muttered.

"Damn right, '_oh'_. Now, help me," I repeated myself, going back for the front. Arthur complied this time, and we dragged the cabbie's body across so he was dumped in the passenger side.

"What happened to your arm?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"He shot me," I said bluntly, jumping into the now vacated drivers seat. "Fuck. Wait here," I leaped back out and sprinted back for the parking lot, sweeping up the duffle and ripping half the engine out of the bike in my haste. Shoving the metal into the duffle too, I raced back to the car, already hearing sirens in the distance. I threw the bag in the backseat next to Arthur, returning to the drivers seat. Starting the cab back up, I screeched backwards out of the street, spinning around once I had the wide space the parking lot provided.

"Where are we going?" Arthur wondered.

"Elsewhere," I nearly grinned at my own vagueness, speeding down the nearly empty streets. "Actually," a thought occurred to me suddenly, and I screeched to a stop. I turned slightly in the seat, enough to almost be facing him. Arthur watched me expectantly. "Okay. There isn't enough time to go to your house first and do something with the cases. We have to deal with this car, and the cabbie. That has to happen somewhere specific, nowhere near a place to take the cases afterwards..." I trailed off.

"That wasn't a promising conclusion," Arthur reminded me after a moment.

"I'm organizing my thoughts. Just give me a second," I muttered. Sirens wailed ever closer, which was doing nothing for my thought process. Finally, I had a solution. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it would have to do for now. Without telling Arthur what I was doing, I spun the car around again, heading in a different direction. Arthur seemed to know better then to question, which I was thankful for. Two blocks away from my brother's house, I stopped. "Go wake up Dom. Stay at his house, tell him to bring means of transportation to the lake,"

"What lake?" Arthur asked predictably.

"It's not really a lake. Just tell him that, he'll know what you're talking about," I insisted. Arthur, surprisingly, got out of the car. Without waiting, I spun around yet again, heading off in a completely different direction. I drove for miles, finally ending up on the top of a hill. This hill was infamous for catching on fire, as it was nothing but dead plants. Also because I had set fires here, more then once.

I stopped the car, getting out and taking both mine and Arthur's bags and dumping them down the hill. The two cases followed quickly. I proceeded to open up the gas tank in the cab, retreating about halfway down the hill before raising the Beretta and shooting the opening. I then ran as fast as I could back down the hill, dragging all the stuff further back from the dead earth once I got to the bottom. I stacked the cases up, sitting on them as the car caught fire. Minutes later, a deafening explosion rang through the air. I watched, mesmerized by the orange flames as the car exploded with leaping fire.

It felt like I waited forever. As I actually started to genuinely wonder if my brother was going to show up, he appeared at my shoulder. Nothing was said, but he watched the flames with me for a minute before holding out a hand. I took it, finally starting to feel drained from the adrenaline rush that hadn't happened for years. We split the load of burden, trekking in silence to Dom's car. After letting go of the stuff I held, I walked almost numbly to the front seat. Everything was sinking in. I was being watched by the police. Again. A cabbie had been murdered because of me. I had set the lake on fire. Again. My arm hurt. A lot.

I walked back into Dom's house as we got back, finding a couch to sit on. Minutes passed before I realized that Arthur was in the room too. Dom sat down next to me and had already started on my arm. What a good brother. He ripped the rest of my already tattered sleeve off my arm, wiping the dirty gash with wet gauze. I didn't even pay attention to the pain, watching Arthur instead. He didn't miss the glances he kept throwing at me, as if he was watching me from a different point of view. A point of view that said I was dangerous. The point of view that was reality.

"You going to tell me what happened now?" Dom asked in a tone that forced calm, finishing and tightening a gauze bandage around my arm.

"Smaltin still wants to arrest me," I gave him that brief explanation, giving him a pointed look. "I thought you told him to drop it,"

"I did!" Dom exclaimed, fury flashing in his eyes.

"Don't lie to me. Maybe you told him to back off, but you didn't make sure, did you? You never closed the case,"

"The case isn't closed," my brother claimed defiantly.

"The case shouldn't have my name anywhere on it!" I was shouting again, and I felt angry tears prick my eyes. I blinked them away before they became noticeable, refusing to show the emotion. "You aren't convinced, are you?" my tone fell back into near whispers, and I refused to look Dom in the face.

"Rika. Don't ever think that," he sounded pained.

"How can I not? You were so convinced Dom, so convinced. That doesn't just disappear with time. There's still the sneaking suspicion. Nothing has been resolved since I was cleared, so maybe, just maybe, you were on the right track with me,"

"That's not true!" he shouted.

"Really? Imagine if Smaltin locked me up. Would you sleep, just a little better? Actually think about it. You would, wouldn't you?"

Dom actually got to his feet out of anger. "What do you want me to say? What will convince you that I don't think you had anything to do with it?"

"Close the case," I challenged bluntly. "It's over, you _know_ that. I'm their best guess, they're not going to go look for anyone else!"

"The case isn't closed," he repeated in a mumble.

"After they succeed in locking me up, it will be. So, choose. Let the case go, and I get cleared. Keep it open, Smaltin eventually arrests me, and it gets closed anyway," I stared Dom down, which was awkward, as he was still standing. My brother's face contorted and he did a half lunge for me. He faltered at the same time Arthur put himself between us.

"Okay. Airika, stop provoking your brother. Dom, sit down, and explain what the hell is going on," Arthur asserted firmly, shoving Dom into a armchair. I rolled my eyes at Arthur's words, but leaned back into the couch quietly. Arthur sat down next to me, so he remained between Dom and me.

"It's none of your business Arthur," Dom snarled, getting up from the armchair and striding from the room. I was left sitting there with Arthur, who blinked in surprise.

"What's going on?" Arthur turned to me, asking over and over with his eyes for answers. I shook my head.

"I can't tell you. It's for Dom to tell, whenever he decides to be rational about the whole thing. I have to go. Don't let anything happen to the cases, they're still in Dom's car I guess," I sounded detached as I spoke, not looking at him as I headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, sounding exasperated.

"Home,"

"It's not close by, is it?"

"No," I stated bluntly. "But I'm not going to stay here," I could tell he was about to say something else, but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear anything from anyone. So I paid him no attention, slamming the door on his sentence. I walked numbly for about two miles, letting my head clear itself. Finally, I was thinking somewhat rationally again, and I found a payphone. After dialing Snow's phone, it rang only twice before she picked up.

"It's three thirty in the fucking morning. Whoever you are, have a little more class," she screamed through the line.

"Hey Snow," I muttered.

"Airika!" she screeched. "You, of all people, what compelled you to call me at _this time_? Where the hell are you anyway?"

I gave her a street corner. "Just come pick me up," I requested before hanging up, falling against the wall of the phone booth and sliding down to sit on the ground. I closed my eyes, watching the evenings events flash through my mind. I wasn't numb from what happened. Actually, I barely even cared about the cabbie, or the fire, or even Smaltin bruising my neck and shooting me. All I cared about was the fact that my brother was still apprehensive about my guilt or not. I was certain that he had did his very best to convince himself of the truth, but he apparently wasn't satisfied with the results. I could sympathize with him, I knew he needed someone to blame. And since it had always been me, why stop now?

The thing was, there was a reason that he could still be convinced. If he had found out, if someone had told him the murkiness of what had really happened, he still had more then enough reasons to suspect me. If he had been told hard facts. Facts like my fingerprints had been found all over the murder weapon. Or that there is certain evidence that I was in the building when it happened, and got out alive. Or the fact that the blood I had been covered in when I left the building was not mine, but proven to be Jenna's. Also, three people claim and will testify to have heard me screaming at someone minutes before the murder happened.

My overactive thoughts were cut short by Snow standing over me. "You look like you've been to hell and back," she told me bluntly.

"Close enough," I agreed, pushing myself back to a standing position. "Sorry I called you,"

"I would be pissed, but the amount of blood you're covered in and the fact that you have a gauze war bandage convinced me otherwise,"

"I'm relieved," I assured her quietly, climbing into the passenger seat of her car. I knew I was being tactless with my lack of speech, but I couldn't bear to say everything that was going through my mind. I didn't even trust myself to say it all in order, or even be understandable. Snow, being the amazing person that she is, didn't question, but drove me back home. I gave her a mumble of thanks, sliding out of the car and trekking for the door.

For the first time in awhile, I wanted to sleep. I wanted to go to sleep, and not wake up for a long time. This of course, didn't happen, and I lay in the darkness, ruminating. I finally couldn't take all the thoughts in my head anymore, so I sat up and turned a light on, reaching for my laptop. Over the next three hours, I organized every musing in my head into a mock police report. I had read enough of them to know how to write them up, and they were good for thinking. The finished document was five pages long. I read it six more times before I realized it was almost seven thirty. Not knowing what else to do, I got up, took a second shower out of habit, drank half a pot of coffee, and left the house. I walked the mile and a half to the warehouse, making a note to somehow get ahold of my motorcycle.

"You look like you haven't slept in days!" Eames called cheerfully.

"I wonder why," I mused sarcastically.

"Arthur brought you the large ass cases. What's in them, anyway?" Eames questioned.

"You're going to find out later. Where is Arthur?"

"Here," Arthur's voice came from behind me, and he walked into the warehouse. While I looked hellish, he looked just as he always did. Perfect suit, perfect hair. I might hate him. "Dom's going to be late,"

"Where is he?" I demanded instantly.

"He said not to tell you," Arthur looked apologetic. I swore, nearly kicking something, but resisting.

"Fine. Now, you two get to be awesome assassins, and he'll be left out," I decided.

"That's always the goal," Eames agreed, laughing.

As I turned, I noticed Arthur watching me. "I have to talk to you," he declared, taking my arm and pulling me from the warehouse. He pointedly ignored Eames' suggestive whistle, slamming the warehouse door once we were outside.

"If you're going to question me, don't bother," I said flatly, leaning against the side of the warehouse.

"I wasn't going to. Dom is trying to get you off the hook for awhile,"

"Thought you weren't supposed to tell me,"

"Would you rather I didn't?" he shot back, sounding exasperated. I inclined my head in a negative. "He wants to finish this job with Frost and Cobal, then figure the other thing out. Whatever that is,"

"How considerate of him," I huffed sardonically.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, ignoring my tone.

"I'm fucking spectacular. Can't you tell?" I gave him a huge, obviously fake smile. Arthur sighed. "Is that all you had to drag me out here for?" I asked. Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something. He faltered at the last minute however, and opened the door for me instead. I looked at him for a moment before letting it go, heading back inside.

"Have fun?" Eames sang from his perch on the edge of my desk instead of his, next to the cases. I ignored him, moving to open the silver one and opening the third drawer down. Eames whistled appreciatively at the pair of weapons that lay there. I gave one to each of them.

"Take it apart," I instructed them both, gesturing to the metal in their hands. Looking slightly confused, both complied. "Now put it back together," I said, boredom lacing my tone as I sank into a chair and put my feet on a desk. Again, they followed directions.

"Well that was fun, right Artie?" Eames piped afterwards. Arthur glared at him.

"That took you over a minute. You need to be able to take a gun apart and put it back together in thirty seconds at least," I said dully. "Do it again,"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a similar fashion. Surprisingly, Eames was the first to actually get it done in thirty seconds. This proceeded to piss Arthur off, and he did so soon after.

"You both have a shred of dance competence, right?" I asked at large, after about another hour. They both looked at me like I'd lost it. I rolled my eyes. "You know. The art of dexterity," I pirouetted on the spot to demonstrate my point.

"Why does that matter?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Answer the question first. Seriously, it doesn't matter what. Just, anything," I emphasized this by morphing the twirl at the last second and dropping into the splits.

"This is me you're talking about dearest," Eames said smugly, holding out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up expertly. I spun away from him, grinning.

"Right. The womanizer. It's in your job description," I mocked. Eames made a face at me, but winked anyway. I turned to Arthur.

"Sure," he shrugged in an affirmative to my query.

"Okay. No real reason, it's just what they teach you when you train to be an assassin. First, you learn how to dance. It helps with your overall ninja qualities," I nodded seriously as I spoke, not missing their identical eye rolls. Eames looked significantly more amused though. No big surprise. The scene was interrupted by my brother finally arriving.

"Ah, Dominic! We were wondering where you ran off to," Eames greeted in his usual cheery voice.

"We have two weeks to finish with Cobal," Dom announced bluntly.

"Two weeks! This is two, insanely difficult jobs you're talking about here, and you're the one who wants me to train you all as assassins. Two weeks is close to impossible," I nearly shrieked at him.

Dom looked at me impassively. "We can take more then two weeks. After that is just when they're going to start looking for illegal activity again," he informed me pointedly.

I gritted my teeth as I stared at him, finally exhaling heavily. "Then we better move quicker," I went to get the next size higher in weapons.

"Rika. One more thing," Dom called. I turned, exasperated. "I just got this. We're required," he threw an open envelope at me. I caught it, and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. As I read it, I choked on the air I was breathing.

"A family reunion? Why the hell is our dysfunctional family having a reunion_?_" I exclaimed, ignoring Eames' chuckles at the idea.

"Don't ask me, but we're sticking to the same story," Dom said compellingly.

"You didn't have to tell me. I don't feel the urge to ruin our happy image," I rolled my eyes.

"Can Arthur and I go?" Eames asked wickedly. I left it for Dom to answer, as I truthfully didn't care.

"It'll be hell, but if you really want to..." I could hear the shrug in Dom's voice. "Just a couple things you have to stick to. None of them know anything about dreaming. Airika and I see each other frequently. And most importantly, Mal is still alive, and unable to attend. Make up a reason if someone asks,"

"Your family thinks Mal is alive?" Arthur asked questioningly.

"Yes. And it's going to stay that way," Dom said firmly and seriously.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah ha! And what a dysfunctional family it is...to give you a little preview, we've got a schizophrenic cousin, a cynical mother, a gossipy aunt, and the great grandmother that just won't die coming in the next chapter! Bound to be exciting! <strong>

**And don't forget, reviews make for quicker updates! (I hope I'm not pestering, just a little reminder!)**

**Love to all!**

**Mio**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ello darlings!**

**Told you...updates will be quite scattered now that school started again for me...who's idea was it to take honors math and physics? Mine? I think not...even though it was.**

**So, finally, here's chapter 6! Dysfunctional family reunions, how FUN!**

**I still don't own Inception, though I'm plotting...**

**Enough random authors notes! Read on!**

* * *

><p>The reunion was before Frost's extraction, which put a setback on our planning, which wasn't ideal for the whole illegal activity situation. Dom and I had continued to be frosty with each other since the incident after Antarctica, and I was curious to see his attitude surrounded with people who thought us to be the model siblings.<p>

"You're coming, right?" I pleaded with Snow one evening, as the reunion drew ever closer. I lay upside down off the couch, throwing a tennis ball at the wall and catching it as it flew back at my face.

"If you give me a worthwhile reason," Snow replied uninterestedly. "I don't think I can bear your horny cousins or your great grandmother that just won't die for more then a few minutes,"

I considered, deciding that is was depressing how long it took me to come up with a reason. "The TV room we can hide in after we make an appearance?" I suggested half heartedly. Snow looked doubtful. "I'll introduce you to Eames," I bargained, smirking at her.

"How's that supposed to convince me?" she rolled her eyes.

"Just come," I nearly begged.

"If you wear a dress, I'll go," Snow gave me her own offer.

"This is my family we're talking about. If I don't, they'll come to some random conclusion, like I'm pregnant or something,"

"No way,"

"Way. They already decided that once. We still don't know where the nonexistent baby went,"

"I honestly can't tell if you're joking,"

"I'm not. It's sad, isn't it?"

"Now I'll definitely go," Snow smirked maliciously.

~o~

"Help me," I requested of Snow, the day of the reunion. I stood in front of a mirror, holding a long scarf. She appeared at my shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"With?"

"The scarf. Help me cover the wings," I gestured in the direction of my back, where some of the tattoo was visible. The dress I wore was strapless and pale blue. It was corset style until the waist, where it flowed out in feathery layers, reaching to my knees. Snow took the scarf, which was completely white, and contemplated for a moment. Finally, she brought it around my waist, just before the layers started. She pulled the ends back and brought them over my shoulders so it crossed my back on either side. After the ends of the scarf went over my shoulders, they returned to my back, where Snow tied them together. I turned in front of the mirror, deciding with satisfaction that the wings weren't visible at all. The tattoos on my ankles and leg weren't a problem either, because I had chosen to stick with my trusty boots, even though they would be frowned upon. I decided that people should be proud that I actually gave in and wore a dress. That was as good as they were going to get.

"I am a genius," Snow praised herself, twirling in her meadow green sun dress. The dress hung normally, and because she had decided that was to plain, so she had but a black belt around her waist.

"Normally, I would tell you off for modesty, but today is a day that I have to agree with you," I admitted, grinning widely. Snow rolled her eyes.

"How are we getting there?" she questioned.

"My mother is sending the car fleet out. We're getting picked up," I replied scornfully. Snow raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Minutes later, we discovered a black car waiting for us outside. The driver was blocked from view, so we couldn't see his face, nor talk to him. All he did was drive us. The car arrived at the an entrance in the form of a large canopy, decorated with colorful plants.

"This looks like a wedding," Snow grumbled. I had to agree, standing outside the light material of the canopy. I really didn't want to go in. Finally, Snow took my arm, pulling me inside. The canopy was bigger then it looked from the outside, full of people. It opened to a grassy lawn further in, where still more people were already mingling.

"Airika, my goodness, you've gotten older!" a cry came from a little ways away.

"And so it begins," I muttered to Snow as we moved towards the voice. She contained a snort of laughter as my mother came into view. "Hello mom. Good to see you," I recited in a tone that I hoped had a twinge of feeling in it. After a brief and somewhat awkward attempt at a hug, Meredith Cobb held me at arms length.

"You're to skinny," she finally decided.

"Thank you mother," I replied stiffly. Her eyes narrowed.

"Airika. Do you really think men will find you attractive if you barely exist?" she questioned seriously.

"I hadn't thought about it. Thank you for the guidance," I answered flatly.

She tsked, but seemed to drop the subject, moving on to the subjects that were apparently much more pressing. "Well, I see your taste in clothing hasn't improved, what would even compel you to think of wearing such horrid shoes? And your hair, whatever have you been doing to it? At least think about styling it so you can hide those atrocious split ends," her hand went up to pat her own hairstyle, as if making sure it was still there. I was saved the job of thinking up a reply as another voice joined us.

"Mrs. Cobb. I do believe your son would appreciate some of your attention as well. Why don't you go find him, and leave me to converse with your lovely daughter?" my savior came in the form of a british accent. Eames appeared at my side, giving my mother a very practiced and courteous smile.

"How gracious of you, saying nice things about my daughter. You really don't have to though, she's alright without them," my mother articulated matter-of-factly. Without waiting for a response, she wandered off through the crowd, trying to look important.

"Bitch," Snow muttered after her.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Airika, I must know the name of your enlightened friend, please introduce us," Eames said cockily.

I couldn't stop my melodramatic eye roll as I spoke. "Eames, this is Snow. Snow, this would be Eames," I turned to her pointedly as I said it, smirking at her expression as she glared at me.

"Hello darling. Can I flirt with you?" Eames said, giving Snow his overconfident smile.

"Subtle. Anyway I can stop you?" Snow shot back easily, raising an eyebrow with an unimpressed expression.

"Probably not. Depends on the methods you use to stop me," Eames remained unfazed by her expression.

"A frozen steak knife might do the trick," Snow claimed bitingly. With that, she turned and headed off through the throng of chatting people.

"I like her," Eames decided, smirking after Snow's retreating form.

"She's quite pleasant if you don't make the wrong first impression," I replied sardonically. When Eames looked at me with a confused expression, I rolled my eyes and hit him over the back of the head before following Snow. As it was my family, I didn't get far before a hand grabbed my arm. I turned to see my first cousin, Lavena Byfield. As usual, she looked far off. She wasn't exactly looking at me, but seemed to be looking beyond at something nobody could see.

"I'm glad you're here," she mumbled, shifting her gaze to my arm, which she was still clasping tightly.

"Good to see you Lavena. How long are you allowed to be here?" I asked gently, attempting to take her hand. After a moment, she realized what I was doing and allowed her hand to be taken off my arm. I continued holding her hand, just because I knew it would comfort her. Lavena was extremely schizophrenic, and her mental state was unstable. Years ago, Dom and I had considered making an attempt at going into her mind and trying to stabilize it. All in all, we decided against the idea.

"Aunt Meredith is going to have a car take me back later," Lavena said flatly. Lavena had lived at a mental hospital for the past seven years, as nobody in the family was gracious enough or had the time to commit to taking care of her. She only had a grasp of normality around myself or Dom, as we were always the two who actually cared for her.

"Well, you can stick with me for awhile. Maybe it will save me from a few relatives," I said, mostly deciding this to myself. Lavena allowed a smile, meeting my gaze briefly before looking away again. "You want something to drink?" I suggested, already starting off for a distant table, outside of the canopy and on the outskirts of the main group of people. I found her a can of ginger ale, which was the only thing she would drink besides water.

We sat together in a pair of foldable lawn chairs. I told Lavena in specific detail of a normal, uneventful day. She loved hearing such routines, mostly because she didn't live a normal life. She had always wished for just a few days away from the hospital, without any nurses pestering her or doctors asking repetitive questions.

"Lavena! I've been looking everywhere for you," the voice of my brother suddenly exclaimed. He appeared next to us, giving Lavena an affectionate kiss on the head.

"Hi Dom," Lavena said, sounding almost cheered at his appearance. Dom's hand smoothed her hair as he turned to me.

"Edith has succeeded in capturing Arthur into braincell killing conversation," he informed me.

"What am I supposed to do about it?" I asked with an involuntary shudder at the thought of our great grandmother's idea of pleasant conversation.

"You're the only one she'll drop him for. Saving him would be nice," Dom said with a hint of an evil smirk.

"What are you guys fighting about?" Lavena asked suddenly, interrupting our conversation. Dom and I turned to her.

"Nothing," Dom assured her quickly.

Lavena shook her head. "You're angry at each other, I can tell. You know, if you keep holding onto Jenna, she'll never leave,"

I felt my irritation at Dom rising again at these words, words that proved what I had been telling him. I didn't even register how odd it was that Lavena knew what we were arguing about without even the slightest hint. Before I could do anything rash, I rose, with all intentions of rescuing Arthur. I blocked out the continued conversation between my brother and Lavena, instead searching the crowd of relatives for a sign of Arthur or my great grandmother.

I finally found them, mostly because of Eames. I saw him first, laughing silently and yet hysterically and what appeared to be nothing at all. Following his gaze, I finally spotted Arthur. His face was a mask of polite interest, one that looked so genuine that I had to give him props for it. His posture gave him away through, solidly motionless and obviously tense.

I had gotten halfway over to them before what could only be described as a bloodcurdling scream filled the canopy. I whirled to see Lavena running into sight before she stopped dead as she screamed, staring at a point where nobody stood. Dom had followed her, and he looked almost panicked at her outburst. A ring of onlookers formed as the family retreated away from Lavena, all of them wary of her instability. I ended up inside the ring of people along with Lavena and Dom, as I had gone towards my cousin in an attempt to try and calm her. Even though I didn't know what I was calming her from.

"Lavena, please," Dom called after her. Lavena ignored him, though she stopped screaming as she stared at the empty spot. Silence fell heavily, nobody else dared speak. My brother started forward, lightly trying to grasp Lavena's arm. She whirled, shoving his arm away from her.

"No!" she shrieked. "You can't fool me! You try and pretend that everything is alright, but it's _not_! You can't just let Jenna die, can you? You leave her memory open, without doing anything about it! Why can't you just let her go Dom? Let her die, then she'll leave me the hell alone!" Lavena looked like she was about to cry as she screamed at my brother. She stumbled as her voice faded, and she tripped away from his stunned face. I ran forward, wrapping Lavena into a hug in attempt to calm her. I refused to actually meet Dom's eyes, instead focusing on my cousin, who had now started to cry into my shoulder.

"It's okay," I said softly to Lavena, though I had no idea if it was or not.

"I want her to go away," Lavena choked, peering at the unoccupied spot again. After a moment, she turned to look at Dom. "The answer is right there, you know who killed Jenna! Why don't you actually do something about it?" she snarled before ripping herself out of my hug and running out of the circle and towards the large house that sat a short ways away. I looked after her, but didn't miss Dom's immediate glance in my direction at her words.

"There you go! That proves it! You still think I did it, please, stop trying to convince everyone otherwise!" I nearly shouted at Dom, my pent up anger finally exploding out.

"Airika, do you seriously have to come to that conclusion every time? Why can't you just believe that I know you didn't do it?"

"Because its not true! You know what happened, you know I was there!"

"If you were there, then why don't you know who killed her?" Dom shot at me. I said nothing, my mind flashing back to that night, so many years ago. The dampness. Jenna's frightened whimpers. The pressing darkness. The gunshots. The voices that were blurred in my memory, as if there had been an attempt at erasing them away. I couldn't even remember if they were male or female. Being next to a body. Jenna's body. Alive. Then very much dead after a blank time of about two minutes. Two minutes that I couldn't remember, no matter how hard I tried. The two minutes that meant everything to the case. Two minutes that would either prove my guilt or innocence.

"I don't remember," I claimed truthfully, repeating the words that had gotten me a reasonable doubt verdict in the first place. Dom looked exasperated. I ignored this. "Just tell me the truth Dom, for the sake of all our minds. Do you still believe I did it? Factor in all the strange and unknown details here, and answer me honestly. If you can look me in the eyes right now and tell me you don't think I did it, I'll believe you," I felt my own angry tears prick at my eyes as I tried not to scream at him as I said the words. I failed, and I listened to the words reverberate through the air as I yelled at my brother. Dom stared at me for a minute before his mouth opened determinedly. His words were cut off though, by a new voice.

"Begonia! My goodness, I thought I heard your faint little voice. I may be a hundred and two, but I can still hear you!" a shaky voice exclaimed unwarily from the crowd. Everyone gathered comically looked towards the direction of the voice. Finally, a small woman tottered into the circle, looking determined in her quest to be noticed. I stared at the woman. This was Edith. My great grandmother. The only relative that wouldn't call me Airika. The only relative that called me by by first name.

Begonia.

The name, for some reason that probably had something to do with the horrid nature of it, sent me completely over the edge. With a strangled cry, I followed Lavena's lead in tearing from the circle and heading for the huge mansion, owned by Edith herself, that sat only yards away from where the reunion was staged. Opting not to actually go inside, I circled to the back of the house, where the yard led into a sheltered courtyard. The courtyard lacked a great number of plants, only a huge tree growing out of the middle and up into the ceiling, where it grew into the poolroom inside the house.

I didn't go to far into the courtyard, instead entering just enough to be sheltered from outside. I fell against the stone wall and slid down so I crouched in a small ball against it, wrapping my arms easily around my knees and resting my forehead on them. The back of my mind registered that I was probably getting the dress filthy beyond repair, but I really didn't care in the slightest. Only then did I let tears actually fall, now that I was alone. Lavena's scream was echoing through my head, seeming to be all I could think about.

Desperately, I tried to clear my head. Breathing deeply though the tears, I tried to focus only on smelling the leather from my boots. The scent did its job in calming me slightly, and I stayed that way, regulating my breathing. Moments passed before I heard a noise. I didn't even think to register the noise, not until I felt a presence in front of where I was curled. Wiping my face against the material of the dress that covered my legs, I raised my head. Standing there, almost sheepishly, was Arthur.

"My family are great, aren't they?" I asked, my voice upsettingly thick with tears. He said nothing to this comment, but held out both hands towards me. After a pause of a few seconds, I took both of them and allowed him to pull me back into a standing position.

"Your family made you. They can't be all bad," Arthur claimed quietly. He let go of my hands, wrapping his arms around my waist instead and pulling me into a hug. I hugged him back, my arms around his neck and my face in his shoulder. As this lasted, I pondered, probably more then was necessary. This was Arthur. My coworker. Arthur, who was driven, mildly uptight, and paranoid, even though those were the qualities that made him good at his job.

Though maybe, there was more then just a working relationship. There had been, ever since Antarctica. He was the one of the first to have ever understood or even noticed my emotionless personality, and he was the very first to have actually seen through that lack of emotion, to the real me underneath. All these thoughts proceeded to confuse me. Arthur however, seemed to be perfectly at ease, like he knew exactly what was going on. That made one of us.

Minutes later, he pulled away from me slightly. "Is your name really Begonia?" he asked with a small smirk.

I rolled my eyes and let go of his neck to hit him in the shoulder. "Shut up,"

"Is it?"

"Maybe,"

"You know, a gentleman would say that he liked both names. I prefer Airika," Arthur admitted.

"So do I," I assured him, nearly grinning as I said it. Arthur didn't reply, just deciding to look somewhat contemplative. His fingers brushed at my face, as if trying to erase the emotion there. After a moment, one hand returned to my waist while the other stayed at my cheek, almost hesitantly. I smiled slightly at his gentleness, an emotion that seemed very unlike him. A moment passed before I realized that I actually wanted to kiss him. As this absurd notion occurred to me, I couldn't shake the idea. My arms returned back up around his neck, and I took it as I good sign that he still looked at ease. Which was another emotion that was very unlike him. Strange, though not unwelcome.

As the moment lasted, a sound had to break it. Bizarre humming came a spot close to the covered courtyard. Before either of us could react or even fully realize what the sound meant, Gwen Byfield came around the corner. Gwen was Lavena's mother and my aunt. A moment of silence passed where Arthur and I stepped awkwardly away from each other.

"Its true!" Gwen finally shrieked, so suddenly that I flinched. "Everyone's been whispering about it, you two really are a couple! Goodness, you really did have us all wondering!" she exclaimed excitedly. I had no idea what to say. I was pretty sure I was just half gaping at her instead. A moment passed before her face fell comically. "Airika! How could you not tell me? I, your favorite aunt? You tell me everything!"

"I do?" I asked stupidly, thinking to far ahead to actually focus on the current situation. Gwen ignored my density, looking positively ecstatic again before she whirled around and hurried back towards the reunion as fast as she decently could in her dress.

"That was...interesting," Arthur decided. I let out a groan, falling back against the wall behind me. When he looked at me curiously, I sighed heavily.

"Anyone could've decided to come up here. Anyone. But it had to be her,"

"And?" he asked, apparently lost.

"She's the most gossipy woman you will ever meet,"

"More then Eames?" Arthur cut across me suddenly. I rolled my eyes. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"I'm serious Arthur! Honestly, the whole family knows by now, and they've decided when our wedding is," I insisted. Arthur raised an eyebrow at my words. After a moment, I huffed. "Be mature,"

"Okay, okay I believe you. Do you care?" he asked, still with a raised eyebrow.

"No. But now, you have to suffer Eames," I stated, poking him hard in the chest. "You go back first. Maybe a staggered entrance will make it better," I decided. Arthur scoffed, but complied, jokingly flicking my forehead as he left. Unable to contain my short chuckle, I slid back into my sitting position against the wall.

Maybe I should just stay here. Away from the new whispers and awkward conversations that were undoubtably about to come. I banished these thoughts quickly though. Arthur had gone down there, who was I to hide here like a coward? With that thought firmly in place, I got up and took a detour through some trees that lined the house, entering the canopy again from the side, less likely to be noticed at once.

More luck then I could've hoped for stuck, my family wasn't able to get their hands on me first. The second worst person found me minutes after I reentered the group. Eames. He was grinning broadly and maliciously, looking like he just won the lottery.

"Darling," he chuckled, apparently unable to contain his glee at the prospect of something new to obnoxiously comment on. "You do know that you could have a beautiful man, if you wished," he pointed ever so slightly to himself, "but you choose Arthur? You must not be feeling alright. Do I need to take you to a hospital?" he felt my forehead dramatically.

"Shove off Eames. Go flirt with Snow or something,"

"What do you think I've been doing all this time? She finally got away from me during your cousin's little explosion. Now I've lost her,"

"Pity," I said sarcastically, glancing longingly for the canopy exit.

"Oh no you don't. I need to watch you get ridiculed first," Eames insisted, grabbing my shoulders and turning me pointedly away from the exit. "Go have fun,"

"Go to hell," I muttered, flipping him off as he shoved me into the other groups of people. Eames only chuckled.

"Airika! That was very unladylike! What would Arthur say?" my mother had returned. As I turned towards her voice, I could swear I heard Eames lose himself into laughter somewhere behind me. I choked slightly at my mothers words, unable to reply for a moment.

"I think we should go find him. Find out what he says about it first hand," I grumbled. I don't think she understood what I meant.

"Be thankful at least one person thinks your worth his time Airika. Learn from this experience," she insisted.

"I'll do that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go kill something," I said pleasantly before leaving her standing there. Not knowing what made me look over, I glanced at the exit. Just in time to see Eames pulling Arthur out to safety. "That hypocritical asshole," I griped quietly to myself, shoving my way through the crowd of relatives that were trying desperately to talk to me. Finally, I found Lavena at the outskirts of the crowd.

"I know you and Arthur aren't together, but you should be," she announced at once. I fought back an exasperated sigh. She was just being Lavena.

"Come on. I need to get out of here, I'll take you back to the hospital. Then you don't have to wait around until my mother decides to remember," I suggested, reaching for her hand. Lavena went willingly, seeming to be grateful to be anywhere besides the reunion. We miraculously made it to the exit, where I burst outside, never having been more grateful to leave anywhere.

* * *

><p><strong>And...chapter six comes to a close! What did you guys think? I do actually want to apologize, I wanted there to be a whole bunch more 'Mal is still alive' drama in there. But everything just flowed so perfectly that I couldn't bear to change or add anything!<strong>

**So...a review? Or two? Anything at all makes me grin and laugh and scream like a lunatic. True story...**

**Next chapter is in the making! Arthur and Airika are getting closer and closer...what will happen now? You'll just have to wait, and FIND OUT! **

**Until next time wonderful readers!**

**Mio**


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